Amare Dividere
by Darkwood
Summary: Sequel to Amoro Revidi, following sequentially. The next instalment of what's happening on the turbulent Gaea. The kings, the queens, the heirs. The politics and the romance. The war.
1. Uncomfortable Situations

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Uncomfortable Situations [Part One]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.  
_A/N: Part 1, I decided not to do any prologue for this one, since the epilogue for Amoro Revidi seemed to do that quite nicely. I have been working on this since the other story ended, and I'm plowing through to it, now that the name issue is solved, I'll be posting them much swifter. As always, comments are appreciated. _

  
***

"First Asturia, now Fanelia," Eries says quietly, lowering the letter sent out from Fanelia Castle after the attack and subsequent disappearance of the patriarch of the country.

"How horrible for Hitomi," Allen murmurs. Eries glances up at him from her desk, and sees a blank, far off expression in the Senior Knight Caeli's eyes.

"Allen," she says, lightly, in a soft voice, hoping to hide the little twinge of jealousy she feels at the look on his face in relation to the woman's name he had just spoken. "Would you send Celena in to me, please?"

"Celena?" he asks, a little disturbed by the idea of the acting queen calling for his sister. From what he has noticed, she hasn't been comfortable with the young woman since her return with him from the battlefield, nearly seven years ago now. When he had mentioned that she lifted a sword to the princess, he could've sworn she had gone nearly immediately from subtle distrust to outright disapproval of the quiet girl.

"Yes, Celena," Eries replies, turning her attention back down at her papers without further comment, a little too quickly for his liking. He had missed whatever expression had passed over her face, and is a little unsettled by the idea of something going through her mind to make her call for Celena. Allen steps out to go and retrieve his younger sister, passing Dryden in the doorway on his way out. Eries sets down her papers and looks up, "Yes, Dryden?"

"What news?" he asks, casually. Though their ages are roughly the same, she appears, as always before when the rich merchant heir was courting the younger princess, the older of the pair of them. His concern over matters of state, during that point in time, had been lackadaisical at best, and whenever asking about the state of the country, he had been very careless with his words, as now.

"Van's disappeared, sends the Prime Minister of Fanelia, just after the wedding… and Hitomi's coronation." Eries, as always, relates the information to Dryden in a frank tone with hints of patronizing in the back of her throat. Though supportive of Dryden's marriage to her sister, she had never been quite sure of his position as king, before the pair had married and Millerna's organized and regal manner had rubbed off on him. Now, with her missing, Eries feels that Dryden has regressed to his own pre-Millerna attitude, and thus, so has she to the one of the time before the wedding and her own seclusion.

Dryden laughs once, self-consciously, "It's apparently that time of year." He runs a hand through his hair and adds, "Good for her on landing him, though, she'll make Fanelia a good queen, given the time."

"What do you mean by that?" Eries says, jumping on his phrasing. Since living with Millerna, he had become much more accurate with his statements, and less likely to throw words around carelessly.

"What do I mean by what?"

"Given the time," she repeats.

Dryden starts a little, averting his eyes from the piercing blue of his sister-in-law. "She survived the last war- "

"There will be no talk of war!" Eries says loudly, slamming her empty hand on the writing desk in front of her. "I simply will not hear it."

"And she seems to genuinely care about him," Dryden finishes, disregarding his sister-in-law's outburst. "But if there's another war, Fanelia may fall without the strong hand of it's king, who _also_ survived the last war."

Breathing heavily, Eries raises an arm in cold, regal grace, and points to the doorway. "Kindly see yourself to your son, my King," she says stiffly, more detachment in her voice than he remembers having heard in ages.

He turns and ambles off, like a revolving door, he passes Celena on her way in.

***

Van sits up, awake to find himself in an unfamiliar bed.

"Hitomi?"

He looks around the room and finds it warm, very different from the rooms in Fanelia castle. A single other person is in the room with him, a young woman, and for a moment, in the dimly lit room, he thinks that perhaps it is Hitomi. Clouds break outside and a little light comes in through the curtains covering the window. He sees that she is not. The last thing he remembers clearly is fighting a battle inside the Temple above the castle, after his wedding ceremony and the subsequent coronation. Then, vaguer memories of a bright light, and stumbling.

Noise outside draws his attention to the window, and he starts to move towards it, trying to get out of bed, but his body decides, at that moment, to remind him of the battle he just survived. He lets out a short exclamation, and then clamps a hand over his mouth, but not soon enough to keep the woman from waking up.

"Oh, you're awake."

Van nods slowly, unsure how to take the girl's presence, as well as his own.

"I'm glad. I was worried that you were really sick." She sits up and brushes her dark hair back from her face.

A memory of his last time on earth hits him, and Van blinks. "You're… Yukari…"

The woman nods. "I'm glad you remember me. I'm sorry to say that my memory isn't nearly as good as yours is. What's your name again?"

"Van," he says, voice trailing off. He looks towards the window, and sees the moon alone in the sky. A shudder passes through him, and he lifts one hand to his head in order to mask his reaction to Yukari. _'So this is Earth… the Mystic Moon. But… how did I get here… and how do I get home?'_

"You're tired. You should rest some more. I'll go and make you something to eat, are you hungry?" Yukari straightens her blouse and skirt as she stands up, stretching a little. The clock next to the bed reads 4:13 am.

"That… will be fine," Van says, his tone of voice dismissive.

Yukari nods and turns, leaving the room. It is not until she is downstairs that she begins to feel a little resentful of his words, but she shrugs it off.

***

Chid sits in the dining room alone, the doors to the windowless inner dining chamber lined by his royal guard, the only person visibly missing from attendance his Kathis, who, over the past few months, has proved most effective in her job. After the interrogation of the would-be assassins, she had stopped another two attempts to either kidnap or assassinate him.

The most probable of the causes, in Fariah's mind, was that whoever had kidnapped Millerna was making a play towards the other monarchs of Fanelia, including Chid. Whoever had orchestrated the first was probably responsible for the attack on Fanelia during the wedding ceremony.

She still had no contacts within the area to call upon, Freid, high in the mountains, having no real contact with the normal type of informants that Kathis communicated with and would lend to one another. The only reliable network she had to draw from, she has found, is the people of Freid.

It hadn't taken long for their Duke's new bodyguard to gain the trust of the people, and more often than not, rather than instilling fear in the citizens of the Duchy, she gave them a bit of comfort, always hovering a step behind and slightly to one side of their Duke. After word had spread that she had been injured protecting his life, she had become accepted as another part of tradition and formality that the Duchy seemed to thrive on.

So the people had, as usual, let word get to the castle that strangers had entered the borders a few days ago, and would reach the castle soon. So, in preparation for the attack, she had set a little bit of bait with the young Duke as bait.

Chid, knowing the situation, and having developed an implicit level of trust with his Kathis, eats calmly in silence until the action explodes into the inner dining room.

The largest door at the end of the hall bursts open in an explosion of shards of wood and thick, gray smoke. Instinctively, Chid ducks, the attackers having used the most direct means to attack him.

The three of them, or at least the three that enter first, move quickly about dispatching the guards around the room, for the most part merely knocking the strong men unconscious and moving on. Fariah had warned him about that. It was much quicker, she said, to knock someone out than to kill them.

*

"A half dead man can still fight," Fariah said to Chid the day before during his sparring lesson. "Whereas a properly unconscious man cannot. If I were ever to attack a large group in a small space, I would worry first about lowering my number of direct opponents, and then about singling out the best fighter among those remaining. Speed," she disarmed him again, and nodded respectfully to him as she returned his weapon to him, "is of the essence."

*

His skill with a sword, while at turns undeveloped and ignorant, was there. Inherited from his father, though he was still ignorant about his true father's identity, he quickly picked up proper sword technique once given proper instruction.

As the three of his aggressors narrow in on him, Chid stands, and draws his own sword calmly.

*

"You most likely won't do very well against the trained assassins, yet, but the idea that you are lifting a sword against them will give you an advantage. There are a few moves in your own style that you overlook. I have seen them nowhere before I entered the training grounds here, and that is to your advantage." She sheathed her own sword, "Fighting position, please, and I will show you what I am talking about," and stepped behind him to guide his movements.

*

The attackers look at one another.

"Why don't you put down your sword, Duke Chid," the first says, stepping forward to take up a position across from him, "We have no intention of hurting you."

The second and third move towards the doorway, and Chid nods a little to himself, Fariah had expected that as well. Surprisingly, to him at least, he manages to generally hold his own against the one he had begun to think of as the "lead" attacker.

Once he feels his arms begin to tire, and his mind overwhelmed at blocking the blows of his attacker, he attempts one of the moves Fariah had forced him to memorize the day before, and manages to get the sword from the attacker, following through to send it skittering across the stones and clanking into the thick wall behind him.

In the moment of confusion, as Chid steps forward and lifts his sword holding the attacker at sword point, Fariah drops down from her position high in the ceiling. She had been in position long before he had entered the room, purposefully, so that he would not be tempted to look at her when they entered, and perhaps ruin the plan. Her thin, nimble body drops down to the table, landing on the balls of her feet and springing almost instantly into backwards hand springs in the direction of the two near the doorway.

The other two, blinking and not expecting a counter attack from inside the room, are too shocked, at first, to react. Fariah easily disarms the first with a well-placed kick, and as the second one acts, she is forced to duck a sword blow, making the attacker hit his comrade grazingly across the stomach.

A moment later, the last of the swords goes clattering across the floor, and Fariah brings the hilt of her sword down, mercilessly, one first one forehead, then the other. She turns and walks over towards where Chid still holds the nervous 'lead' attacker at sword point.

Her boots, the same worn pair that she had walked across Gaea to get to Freid in, make no noise on the stone in the room other than a faint whisper across the smooth stone floor, and her breathing is nearly silent. The only noise in the room is the sound of the attacker's nervous breathing. His brow sweats, and it trickles down the side of his face.

"You shouldn't be so worried," Chid says easily, "I have no intention of having you killed."

"Not alone," Fariah adds, stepping up behind him and lifting her sword to strike him on the back of the head as well.

Chid glances up, quickly retracting his sword, and meets Fariah's cold gray eyes. "What did you mean by that? 'Not alone?'"

"Calm yourself, Chid, I have no intention of hurting him or his compatriots, but then I am not in charge of what happens to prisoners. And by eliminating the threat of death for their actions, you have given them hope of escape."

Chid frowns, not liking this tactic at all, but has no chance to speak to her about it as more members of his guard rush into the room to take care of the thwarted assassins.

***

The morning comes too soon, and Hitomi, curled up in Van's oversized bed, is awoken by the sunlight. "No wonder he takes breakfast so early," she thinks aloud, trying to turn over and avoid the sunlight. It doesn't work, however, and so she resigns herself to rising.

The castle staff, slightly unsettled by the sudden lack of a king to prepare things around, is slightly unprepared for the newly crowned queen to descend from the King's chambers looking, passively, for breakfast. Several of the head servants, however, gladly snap their workers into shape, glad for some semblance, however accidental, of the normal routine to cling to.

Seated, alone, at a table in the royal dining room, Hitomi keeps her own council as the servants bring her food and drink, eager to please. _'It's too formal without him here,'_ she thinks to herself. _'I feel like a guest, still… and no one's around to make everyone stop tripping over themselves for me.'_ After a moment of self-pity, she admonishes herself.

Afterall, she thinks, she had survived a war, and the loss of everyone she loved. Getting a bunch of servants to treat her like a human being would be no problem.

"What's your name?" she asks, pointedly stopping the serving maiden as she refills her orange juice glass needlessly.

The servant, so greatly shocked by this, stutters and nearly drops the pitcher in her hands. She quickly mumbles an apology and retreats from the room. Finishing her breakfast with a slight frown, Hitomi gathers herself and prepares to visit the wounded.

At least I finally know my way around the castle, she quips to herself as she makes her way down the tall hallways, her footsteps echoing a little, despite the carpet and the wooden ceilings. She hadn't taken much time, before, to spend getting to know the building that Fanelia Castle was, and so she slows her walk to take it in.

The prospect of greeting wounded soldiers and a guilty-feeling cat woman don't make her too ecstatic, after all. The battle still fresh in her mind, she forces herself to tune it out in favor of presenting the people with a good face.


	2. Foreign Cultures

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Foreign Cultures [Part Two]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.  
_A/N: Part 2, clearing up some confusion, creating some more, most likely. Sorry it took so long. ~_~_

  
***

Tristan had been treated little better than Arik usually was by places he went visiting, before Ispano had fallen, and while his mind rationalizes that he deserves the servile treatment because of what she went through for his sake, uncomplainingly, a part of his royal heritage screams in outrage at him. With a war in his heart, he makes his way out of the small, thick tent where he was being housed, and goes in search of his Kathis.

All around him, the tall, winged forms of the Draconians they are staying with pass him and pay him little attention. Occasionally he feels a disapproving glance from one or more of their number, and he begins to wonder just where all the women are. Even with the power the race had once possessed, surely there had to be female Draconians? Walking quickly in the chill air between the tents, he shortly realizes he has no clue where he might find her, until he hears a lone female voice, though he cannot understand the language it is speaking.

Looking up to the source of the speaking, he is more surprised than he thought possible, despite the suspicions in the back of his mind at her relation to the people she had brought him to, to see her aloft, sword drawn, sparring with another winged warrior.

"Arik!" He calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth to try and amplify it to a point where she can hear him. Unfortunately, after waiting for some sort of response, he realizes that the loose ring of similarly flying bodies has blocked out the sound of his voice.

"She cannat hare ye," a gruff baritone voice says behind him.

Startled, Tristan turns, and nearly jumps as he comes face-to-chest with the hazel eyed man bearing a likeness to Arik's face. Unlike him, whose lineage and past was well known between the two of them, for obvious reasons, Arik had never spoken of parents, or siblings. Thinking hard, he cannot remember a time in which she had spoken of her own life before the day she came to him, so many years ago, to protect him from whatever perils the world might have for him. And slowly, as he looks up into the hazel eyes of the man that he now reasons, after his reception of her, must be her father, Tristan feels guilty.

"Aye," the tall man says, lifting a large, delicate hand and placing it on his shoulder. Without any more of his heavily accented words, he steers the younger man aside and into another, much larger tent.

***

The darkness of the cavern was never truly complete, there always seemed to be some draft, some small shaft of light to keep her hope from dying out completely. Millerna, carefully nursing the other young woman, who is, by now, doing much better, though the two of them had decided it best kept a secret, has begun to try and think of a way to escape rather than simply awaiting rescue. But unlike other members of her family, she thinks bitterly, she has little head for such planning.

She had tried to discuss the subject with the other woman in her damp, slightly chill prison, but it seems, to her, that the walls have ears every time she starts to speak. "It should be almost time for food, today," she comments, humming and checking the bandages on the other young woman's wrists.

Just as she finishes this, and move slightly back to her own corner of the room, there is the noise of scraping rock and an unfamiliar figure enters behind the normal hooded messenger bearing their food. "Please, don't stop your small talk because of me, Queen Millerna."

'So it has come to this,' she thinks, lifting her blue eyes to stare at the man who has orchestrated the kidnapping. "I am at a loss, sir, because while you know exactly what has transpired with me, I know nothing of you," she counters, taking in the man's appearance easily.

Tall, with a skin tone that tells her this man may be royal by bearing, but not by birth, a well kept mop of curly black hair atop his head, and a strong frame to his body, she cannot place the face she is greeted with, and that fact alone tells her who he is, and where she herself likely is.

"Daeluzito keb Ouran, king of Norte, as the recognition on your face tells me you have just figured out."

"What has Asturia done to warrant this treatment of me?"

"Ah, the wondrous Aston ego," Daeluzito chuckles with a smirk on his face, taking a few steps forward, crouching to put himself on an equal level with Millerna, "you should be happy to know that this has absolutely nothing to do with you. You're merely a means to an end my dear Millerna."

***

"I were wunderin' wen ye'd get ta wantin' intraductions…"

Taking the offered seat on one of the pillows in the tent that the tall man motions him towards, Tristan is a little confused. "Your speech," Tristan says, tilting his head to the side, "and that language you spoke so fluently before…"

"Yer languge is nat mine, er tha' ah thae athers here," he says, "Ye wan't find many ah them ken spake it this well. And mine is fer less than gaad."

He nods, and watches the other man's graceful movements, despite the large, white feathered wings protruding from his shoulders. Inwardly, Tristan wonders how anyone with such a bulky encumbrance could be considered graceful, and yet, the tall man moves with the ease and grace of a dancer, folding himself down to sit cross-legged on a similarly large cushion opposite Tristan.

***

Upon his return to the Kathis Compound, Sotet is more than pleased with himself. But the Compound is strangely silent, and as he makes his way into his mother's presence, he feels deflated, and as though his good news will mean little to them.

Mot, meeting with the Council, is at turns admonishing them for their laxness in security and the escape of Arik and Tristan, and being glared at for overstepping her position. As Sotet enters the room, the Council falls silent, and Mot's admonishing words stand alone in the air, "That's a country's future we've lost track of, and unless there is something you know that I don't, they seem to have fallen off the map!"

Hearing the mutters cease, Mot turns to find Sotet standing in the doorway, blank faced. She smiles, warmly, and beckons him into the room.

"What news of Norte, Sotet?" the Head of the Council asks, settling in her seat with her thick woolen robes nesting around her. The older woman, whom he had come to see as sort of a grandmother, and rightly so, though he could never know that she was his mother's mother, for she did not know herself, has the same quick eyes as his mother, and more acute hearing than the High Bikathian.

"I am no closer to knowing why my…" staring at his mother for a split second, he corrects himself quickly, it had been far too easy for him to slip into calling Ouran his father while in Norte, he knew he mustn't make that mistake in front of his mother or he would loose her trust as well, "why King Ouran has kidnapped Queen Millerna… but I do know where she is being kept, and that she is not alone in her captivity."

"And of Ouran?" another Council member, this time the newly returned Jujiin asks him, the silver haired master of etiquette having retaken his place amongst the Council upon his successful return from Freid.

"He wants to adopt me… properly… as his son. He seems to think that I am necessary to him… as an heir."

Several members of the Council exchange slightly worried glances, but the Head of the Council thumps her fist on the arm of her chair loudly enough to make a resounding thud that silences the other Council members, "We will expect a more detailed report later, if you are up for it, Sotet," she keeps the rest of the Council silent by glaring at them rather than giving Sotet her full attention, "now it is best if you get some rest after your long journey. Mistress Mot, please attend to your son."

Mot starts to speak up, but at a harsh glance from the Head of the Council, she nods complacently, like a scolded child, and follows him from the council room.

Once the door is closed behind her, the Head of Council turns to the other occupants of the room. "It is as we feared…"

***

Spring in Asturia came to relieve the people of the oppressive winter rains, but the mood inside the castle was still as stifling as before. Dryden's recovery, while miraculous, made some of the advisors a little worried. A power struggle between the King and the Princess would leave the country split, and in a bad position if military warfare broke out.

The advisors, however, had no idea that the recovery on Dryden's part was brought about by his distracting fascination in the relationship of his sister-in-law and the Senior Knight Caeli, along with the care of Celena Schezar and the company of his son. The advisors, outside of the political position being shared by their somehow joint-rulers, knew little of the affairs of the royal family.

Eries, when not in some meeting about the hostile waters Asturia found herself in, had taken to spending her time alone, determined not to get too accustomed to life in the palace, or comfortable with the companionship she could find in the capital. Oftentimes the castle staff could witness her walking around the courtyards, admiring the fountains, with a far-away, lost look in her eyes.

Among the younger maids in the castle, the returned princess was something of a romance novel waiting to happen. Like Dryden, the maids and the ladies-in-waiting spent much of their time tittering about what sort of a relationship the princess and her oftentime companion, Allen Schezar, shared. Celena, when she heard these silly gossip sessions, was quick to put a stop to it, feeling protective of her brother and a little jealous of Eries' monopolization of his time.

***

Tristan had been having a slightly lengthy and garbled, conversation with the Draconian village leader, when Arik comes into the tent, slightly winded, but without a scratch on her, wings curiously absent. Tristan is halfway to his feet by the time she has crossed the room and is kneeling before the tall Draconian he had come to think of, quite correctly, as her father.

_ "Be proud of your daughter, father,"_ she says in the same fluid language he had heard her speaking with him upon their arrival in the tent village.

_ "I have never been otherwise,"_ he replies, motioning for her to stand and remove herself to another cushion. _"But what is the cause for such pride on this day?"_

_ "I have won the day's spars, and regained my position in the eyes of your men."_

"Perhaaps," her father says in the same heavily accented pidgin he had been speaking with Tristan before she came bustling into the tent, "ye should speak so yer man can understaand ye."

Blinking, Arik turns, and, seemingly for the first time, she sees Tristan seated, staring at her curiously. "Oh… oh." After a moment of embarrassed silence, she says, "I was just telling Haruth, that he should be proud of me."

"Your father, you mean?"

Slightly startled, she nods, "Yes, my father."

"Why should he be proud of you?"

"Because the men of the hunting party have regained their trust in me."

"Ah trust thay laached befare," Haruth says, "It happens when yae are barn away from the paple. And Aerik was barn as far away as she cad be."

_ "Father, please don't speak of that with him,"_ Arik says quickly, reprovingly.

_ "The truth will out sooner or later, my daughter."_ Haruth frowns, standing, _"Like why you won't bear your wings as the rest of us while in our midst. We head homeward in the morning, get some rest."_ Without further comment, except for a nod to Tristan, the tall Draconian leaves the tent.

Tristan stares across at Arik meaningfully, but for a long time she does not look at him. When she does, she takes a deep breath and says, "Haruth is my father."

"I'd gathered that, Arik," Tristan responds, tilting his head to one side. "Who, may I ask, is your mother."

Arik gets to her feet and steps towards the entranceway to the tent, "Ask me anything but that. It is something that will only greater confuse you." There is silence, and then she says, "We'll be moving camp to the home area in the morning, you should get some rest."

Tristan gets to his feet and quickly follows her out of the tent, "Then make me understand. Arik, tell me something about these people, your people. Where are the women? Why don't they speak the same language as the rest of Gaea?"

Glancing sidelong at Tristan, Arik smiles faintly, remembering, again, that his inquisitive nature is one of her favorite things about him, and nods once. "My father's people, as I must call them since they are not my only relatives, are the last of the Draconians that survived on Gaea, the language that they speak is the one they brought with them from the Mystic Moon."

Tristan pauses, and then moves quickly to catch up as she leaves him behind. "The group my father is leading at the moment is a hunting party that sets out over the land to bring meat home to the few women and elders that there are."

"I've only seen twenty men here," Tristan comments idly.

"The Draconian are a dying people," Arik replies, lifting aside the tent flap for him to step into their tent. "There are barely twelve women, and the elders are all old and feeble, unable to leave their homes. Of the women, only eight are able to bear children, and with my not so obvious absence, they know little of the world off Asgardia."

"Is that where we are?" Tristan steps in, and she follows. "Asgardia?"

Arik nods. "It is the only place I know where you will be safe," she says, moving to her things and taking out clean robes. "We'll be going to the village tomorrow morning, you should get some rest." She starts past him out of the tent, carrying clean clothing, but he stops her with a hand on her arm.

"I have been doing nothing _but_ rest since we got here," he says, "and you seem suddenly to want nothing to do with me."

She stiffens slightly, and speaks without turning her head towards him. "I am not supposed to have fallen in love with you, Tristan. You've seen what is expected of me. It is a Kathis' most important duty, one we are supposed to be trained to the point where we complete our duty with no feeling."

There is silence in the tent for a long time after she says this, until finally Tristan breaks it with a soft, "That is horrible."


	3. Royal Duties

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Royal Duties [Part Three]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.  
_A/N: Part 2, clearing up some confusion, creating some more, most likely. Sorry it took so long. ~_~_

  
***

Yukari was a little worried that something had happened to Hitomi's American friend, Van, because it seemed like he didn't remember much of how things worked. She spent several hours going over the appliances in the house, and then she had to leave and head home to Amano. The odd thing was, the 'American' Van spoke flawless Japanese.

Van had suffered through her explanations only because it seemed the only way to get her to leave him in peace, shuffling after her about the house despite the screaming protest of the pain running through his body. Once Yukari left, he securely locked the door and collapsed on the couch in the main room. His mind was reeling.

'How did I get here?' the question echoes in his head, but no answers are forthcoming. The room, quiet and cool in the early afternoon, feels comfortable to him, nonetheless, and after a long hour spent racking his weary mind for clues as to how he got to the Mystic Moon… no, he corrects himself, to Earth, he gives up, turning his mind to ways to get home.

Until something distracts him.

Across the room, on a bookshelf, he sees photographs, and gets to his aching feet to cross and examine them.

"Hitomi," he says softly, fondly as he looks at the pictures, seeing images of her and her family. He smiles and runs a finger over her image, longingly.

***

Sitting up abruptly straight in the meeting with Van's advisors, Hitomi glances around, green eyes wide as she feels the presence of her husband.

"Highness?" Peralis asks, stopping in his oral recitation of the most recent events around Gaea in relevance to the war that was brewing. "Is something the matter?"

"…Van," Hitomi says softly, glancing out the window. Hitomi had always had a level enough head for things like politics, but the revulsion in her mind towards the idea of war is almost overwhelming to her. She wishes, silently, to wake up each day and find Van leaning in the doorway to the bedroom, wearing a smirk and with his dark hair falling disheveled over his eyes.

But that was simply not the way things worked.

During the weeks leading up to the wedding she had studied Fanelia's economy, and she and Van had reviewed the states of the provinces. At the time she had been half distracted, but she had since called her tutor to review the material with her. Fanelia's army had been retrofitted since the last war, and were now better equipped, better staffed, and better trained.

One of Van's first official actions on their return from Pallas had been to increase the size of the military. It was not that they lacked the numbers to repel the invading forces the day of the wedding, simply that the attacks were well planned, and many of the soldiers on their own side were green.

Far too many had died, in Hitomi's opinion. And her opinion, at the moment, was the opinion of the crown, but in the quiet moments, when she went to the chapel to pray for those passed on, or when she was visiting those who were recovering, she knew that Van's reaction would be the same.

If he were there to give it.

She consoled herself with the idea that he was, at least, not dead, just absent.

Merle was finally feeling back to her old self, and had been helping Hitomi get a handle on things once again since she had been allowed out of her bed.

Jade eyes stared out the window at the double moon in the sky and she sighs heavily, by now the entire attention of the advisors was focused upon her. She steeled herself and returned to the matter at hand. Van had warned her that she would find it hard to be taken seriously, and if she suddenly told the advisors she was hearing her absent husband's voice and started looking day dreamy and gazing out windows for long periods of time, she knew she would lose what tenuous respect she had gained with them.

"Nothing, Peralis," Hitomi says, eyes turning with a determined smile to the advisors. The Queen's advisors… Her advisors. 'Hurry home to me, Van,' she thought with a last glance out the window, 'your country needs its king, and I need you.'

**

"Highness?" Fariah calls into Chid's bedchambers. She had instructed him to get some rest, overriding the demands of the foreign ambassadors and his advisors with a harsh glance and a hand reaching for the hilt of her sword almost imperceptibly. The hint had been taken, however angrily, and they had allowed their Duke to retire. Fariah's entrance is mainly to check on Chid, so that she can decide whether or not he is fit to return to his duties.

"You know better than to call me that," Chid responds from the far side of the room where he is sitting in the windowsill.

"You shouldn't sit so close to the window, Chid," Fariah chides, though she makes no effort to correct his foolishness, and crosses to stand behind him, looking out the window.

The Duke turns to glare at his Kathis for a moment before turning back to the window. "I loathe war," Chid says in a quiet voice.

"You should," Fariah responds, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Do you ever not have the answer to something?" he asks, piqued.

"Yes," she replies simply, following his eyes as he looks out on the countryside. "Often, but I don't let that get in my way. I was taught to disregard uncertainty, and to act as though I was sure of everything."

"I was taught much less of that and much more of how to be fair," Chid says, looking down at the mountains below the castle. "There is nothing wrong with me sitting at the window up here," he replied, looking over at her, "there isn't a weapon on Gaea that can shoot from the next highest rooftop into this chamber."

"It does not have to be a ground attack, Chid," Fariah responds. "There are flying machines, and creatures that do not walk on the ground."

"None of which would penetrate this far into the castle."

"The Fanelian king has gone missing," Fariah says after a pause. Chid stiffens and turns to her, an alarmed look on his young face. "And your birthday is coming up."

"And war is brewing... what's happened to Van?"

"No one is quite certain, and their government is sitting on any knowledge that they have of it. The Queen-"

"The Queen?" Chid is puzzled, having been so wrapped up in the affairs of his own country that he hadn't been through all the mail he'd received from other countries, and so, the wedding announcement had gone untouched on his large desk.

"He disappeared on the day of his wedding to the woman from the Mystic Moon," Fariah says softly. "I thought you were keeping up with your messages, Chid."

"I..."

"You haven't," turning on her heel, Fariah heads to the door. "I will inform your advisors you are not yet ready to entertain them, and you will catch up on it."

Frowning, Chid starts to protest, but deep down, he knows Fariah is right. It is slightly annoying that the Kathis woman is more prepared to do her job than he is, but at the moment, he disregards his thoughts and looks back out the window over his country, idly wondering what might have happened if he hadn't been born into a royal family.

Of course he had no idea that he was only half royal.

The door to his room opens again, and several servants enter, eyes downcast and averted from their Duke's. At their heels, Fariah strides through the door and motions where to place the baskets that they carry, filled with the messages he had been too lethargic to answer or read through.

As she is about to retreat with the servants, Chid speaks up. "Stay, please, Fariah."

Blinking, the slightly older girl pauses in the doorway, one gloved hand straying to the hilt of her ever-present sword before she allows the doors to close and reenters the room tentatively, at first. "Do you need something?" It is odd, to her ears, to hear him using her name.

"A little company that will look me in the eye. And some help."

Settling herself on the floor opposite the baskets, she reaches into it. "We should get started then, Chid, there's a lot to get through." He moves down to sit across from her on the padded mat covering the stone floor and puts a hand into the basket. "That's why you prefer to visit your Aunt so much, isn't it?" she asks him, not looking up from the letter she is reading.

"Hm?" he asks, putting aside the old announcement. His blue eyes flick up to stare at his Kathis closely as she makes her controlled movements through the letters.

"No one in your own country will treat you as an equal, out of respect and deference for your position."

"Out of some lingering fear of my father's iron fist, more likely," Chid says softly. "Duke Mahad was a dark, looming man. Very cold, very formal."

"Sounds like a very lonely childhood." She sets aside her next letter. "I can relate."

"How's that?" he asks, interested.

She looks up at him pointedly, and back at the two baskets before them.

With a sigh, he returns to opening them. "Surely you don't think that I got this good at my job by being left to my own devices and thinking really hard about it?"

"I never said that," Chid replied.

"I am aware that you didn't, but it was implied. However, since you do not know this, I will tell you. From the moment I was old enough to walk I was training in some manner. Running, languages, strategy. Before coming here, I spent three years having daily etiquette lessons, in preparation."

"What about family?"

"I was raised to have no family."

"But everyone has a family, Fari. You aren't just born out of the ground."

"I know my mother, and was never allowed to meet or be told who my father was," she said in a voice almost too low for him to hear. "The world of the Kathis is matriarchal, because most royals are male. And therefore, in order to complete all our duties, most Kathis are female."

"All your duties?"

"It will not come to a time in which you will need to know what I mean by that, and if it does, I will explain that to you." Fariah worries her lower lip, though, thinking about her mother and what had happened to her mother recently. She wonders if it's true what Jujiin had said about her mother having returned to the compound. From what she knows of the woman, it would not be an easy thing for her to admit defeat and return to the relative safety of the Compound, especially with what that would mean she would have to do.

Chid rolls his eyes and returns to his letters, both curious and unhappy that the wasn't getting an answer out of her. It is different than he expected, having her around. The idea of a personal bodyguard to him had always before meant someone that would do his bidding and follow his orders, and though Fariah always seemed to be working in his best interests, she rarely followed his orders in the way everyone else in the palace seemed to.

It is, he finds, both refreshing and annoying. No, not annoying, hard to get used to.

**

"Asturia needs an answer, your majesty," one of the advisors says as Peralis prepares to close the meeting.

"We will give an answer," Hitomi begins, still disturbed by the call she had heard earlier, "when there are more facts."

However, given that little opportunity, the other advisors chime in. "All the Princess Eries is asking is whether or not Fanelia would support Asturia in a war against Norte," Lord Brett chimes in.

"Given the current situation of the country, we are more than prepared to go to war, your majesty," the commander of the royal military says.

"And after the attack on the palace during the wedding, I would think that you would have fewer hesitations about agreeing to help the Astons, your majesty."

Standing with a look very similar to Van's when he gets angry, Hitomi glares the room into silence. "I allow your suggestions and I welcome your comments out of deference to your appointed positions. I trust the judgment of my husband that he would not appoint advisors that would be so narrow minded as to give him bad advice.

"However," she pauses, adjusting the fall of the gown around herself absently and straightening her back, "I am also understanding of the fact that most of you did not experience the last war first hand. After experiencing that war, in which all of the nations of Gaea were at arms, I find myself as reticent as Princess Eries to commit to military action. As does Van.

"You will receive my answer when I have made it. This meeting is adjourned."

And without another word, Hitomi steps down off the platform raising the chair above the advisors and leaves the room. Peralis hurries after her as she heads out of the chamber, the doors opened before her by two guards.

Nothing is spoken between the two of them for a long while, until they reach the parapets and Hitomi continues to walk, slipping off her circlet and inspecting it with downcast eyes.

"I miss him," she says quietly.

"Undoubtedly, your majesty." Peralis walks quietly beside her. "Between the two of us, what would you do if it came to war?"

There is a long pause in which the slight breeze over the castle wall is refreshing in the midday sun. And then Hitomi speaks, words full of steel, "I will not see Fanelia fall to anyone. If it comes to that, Fanelia will fight."

"A wise decision."

"It is the decision that Van would make. That is enough." She pauses. "I am going to the chapel. Please have Merle sent to meet me there in an hour."


	4. Secret Departures

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Secret Departures [Part Four]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.  
_A/N: __I just have to say that I really love the flashback sequence in this one._

  
***

It is cold in the cell. Millerna and the other woman, whom she had come to know as being Nileyah, the Kathis of the Cesarian prince, huddle together. The door opens earlier than normal, and Nileyah stirs, glancing up.

"Aden," she breathes, glaring at the hooded figure she knows to be her brother and slowly disengaging the other woman to stand.

"Nileyah."

"What happened to turn you from us?"

Slowly, pale-looking tanned hands lower the hood from his face, and he stares at his twin sister evenly. The tattoos on the back of his hands seem darker than normal to her, and his black hair seems thin and uncared for. His brown eyes, as he looks at her, are red-rimmed, though obviously not from crying, and his strong face seems slightly dead.

And then she feels it, almost the same moment that her eyes see it.

The thick heavy collar around his neck, surrounded by scrape marks. Obviously that had been the cause of all of what was happening with him, but she can't quite put her finger on what the collar does.

"There is no time, sister," he says, moving forward and lifting his hands to the shackles on the wall, wrenching them out. "You must escape and get word to the Compound on her whereabouts."

"You shouldn't be able to help me, Aden… that collar is a…"

"I can fight it, some, when you're near."

"Then this is all my fault," she says softly, standing a bit shakily as he frees the last of her bindings. "If I hadn't gone…"

"I left first, to be the former Queen's Kathis, if you recall." He puts a tattooed hand to his sister's shoulder to steady her. "Once Daeluzito had her cornered, he killed her. It was a quiet coup, and by the time his men caught up to us, there was only me left. I tried to protect her… but there was nothing to be done. I could not even reach the Compound safely. She was cut down, and I was so badly wounded that I fell beside her.

"When I woke up, I was here, and bound in this manner," he quietly motions to the collar around his neck before pulling a sword from under his robes. "It will give me away, but it will get you out. He keeps me around because I know the country, and the people, better than he does. He won't waste me."

"Come with me," she says quickly, weighing the sword in her hands.

"I cannot."

"Then forgive me." She leaps forward and hits him square on the temple with the pommel of the sword, hard enough to knock him out but not to kill him. She casts a glance back at Millerna momentarily, but knows she won't manage to escape with the kidnapped queen in tow as well, and so she uses the sword to break the shackles from her ankles before she makes her way out of the cellar compartment warily, mindful of the chains still attached to her wrists.

*

"Your majesty!" one of the Norte military advisors crows as he comes barreling towards King Ouran's chambers later that day.

"What is all the racket about? And where is Aden? I sent him to question the queen hours ago."

"The Kathis woman… she has escaped from the cell. Aden has been wounded."

Glowering, Daeluzito punches the advisor, and the man falls to the ground. "Is he being cared for?"

"The healers are looking… after him… as we speak, your majesty."

"If he dies, so will the healers, and you."

"Highness… what about the Kathis…"

"She is of little concern. Let her scamper back to the Council and the whore that gave me a son. They are powerless since I have the queen."

***

"Princess Eries," Celena says as she brushes the woman's hair out.

"Yes, Celena?" she replies, eyes closed and head bowed slightly. The day had been a tiring round of meetings and conferences. Correspondence was returning from the other countries.

Most of the answers were in the affirmative.

"Why is it that you never became queen of Asturia?"

The question catches the princess off guard. The relationship between she and the younger sister of the country's champion was tenuous at best, and she hadn't thought it would ever progress to such a level of confidence.

"Why do you ask?" she replies softly.

"Because it is something that no one seems to quite understand, Princess. You're the older sister, and on top of that, you seem to have the best head for managing the country…"

Eries' expression turns cold and she says, "That is enough for now. Please leave me."

Celena lowers the brush and bows her head momentarily, setting it down before heading out of the room, unsurprised to see that her brother is waiting quietly outside. He enters as she leaves, and the guards stand at attention at the door as Celena heads down the hallway.

"I take it you are decent, Princess?" Allen says, pausing near the doorway.

"Yes, enter, I've been expecting you," Eries says after a long moment of pause. She and Allen have indeed become close, and though there is a mutual interest between them, she hesitates to move forward. The senior knight has been in a relationship with two of the Aston sisters already, and she is not sure if it would be appropriate for her to consider such a relationship with him because of it. Especially considering the circumstances.

The one of them that he should have been attentive to he had ignored for too long.

And then there was the reason she hadn't become queen in the first place. Idly, a hand strays to her stomach as she sits erect in the chair at her dressing mirror. "Has word come from Fanelia yet?"

"No," Allen replies, gazing at her intently. He can not understand what her reticence around him suddenly is. She had, before, been smiling at him and glad when he'd come in to make his reports, or accompanied her for walks through the palace gardens, but lately… "Something is troubling you, Princess," he says, a frown on his face.

"Old things," she says, voice absent, as she stands, long platinum hair falling down around her, loose since she sent Celena away before she could finish pinning it back. Part of the problem had come with Leon's disappearance. When his father had gone absent, and his sister kidnapped, his mother had fallen out of favor and when she had passed away he had fallen off the map for a while.

When he had returned and become a Knight Caeli, the natural assumption had been that he would take his place where he had been situated at birth. But apparently in the turmoil of his younger years, Allen had never been informed of his betrothal.

And things had gone downhill from there.

Grava had no choice, once Marlene went to Freid, than to set his hopes on Millerna for the crown. He could not, through honor, break the earlier betrothal. Leon had, afterall, been a friend to the crown and despite his son's general behavior and lack of knowledge, his presence was tolerated for a reason.

Because of being so easily brushed aside by tradition and the duties of respect, Eries had become what the castle staff called the ice princess. She was aware of Allen's relationship with both her older and later her younger sister, and hadn't the ability to swallow her pride and break with him about it.

So the only relationship that existed between them for many years was one of disapproval and distrust.

That had all started to change when Allen had broken from Millerna in a gentle and protective way, and during the war when he had let go of Hitomi.

On Allen's part, Eries had begun to confuse him once he began to pay attention to her more. When he had found her at his mother's grave… it had shaken him.

But he still remains clueless as to why.

"Old things that seem to have your attention more than the matters at hand." Allen steps a little closer to her, "And there's something you haven't ever told me, isn't there?"

"Allen, I am leaving the room."

"Not until you tell me what it is that makes you so distant all of the sudden."

"The same thing that's always made me distant," Eries replies, brushing past him. "Something it's never been my duty to inform you."

Turning on his heel, Allen catches her wrist and pulls her back to face him in a gentle but firm manner. "Whose duty was it, then? The King's? He hasn't ever truly lived up to his duties in certain departments. I do not think he would've thought to tell me whatever it is you think I should've been informed of."

"He would not have," Eries replies, narrowing her eyes, "because after your mother passed on, when you returned to Palas you were far too involved with Marlene to take it seriously."

What hurt the most was that Marlene had been aware of his prior attachment when she had gone after him. But in a way, Eries could sympathize with her sister. Being betrothed to someone and sent away to marry them would scare even her. When Eries had come of age, she had been informed that she was betrothed to someone, and had felt the same way.

*

Marlene stood facing off with her slightly younger sister, and saw the hurt on the quiet young woman's face, it wrenched at her heart to be doing this to her sister, whom she had always been so fond of spending time with, and felt close to when growing up. But the news that she had been betrothed to the Duke of Freid had come as such a blow that she could do nothing more than collapse.

And Allen had been there, solicitous and helpful to her.

"Eri," she started to say, "I am sorry… please, you must understand… I cannot know if I will ever be happy with Mahad. You have to allow me this one chance."

"I," there was a waiver to the quiet princess's voice for a moment before she collected herself, and leveled her harsh blue gaze at her sister. "I can allow nothing you have not already taken from me." And then she turned her back on her sister.

It was the kindest thing she could do for Marlene, beautiful and scared, like a caged bird. Like their mother. She was grasping at straws, and her dignity was one of the few things that she had left. Eries meant to leave her with it intact, but as she started out the room, her sister spoke up.

"You will not understand… and you will not forgive, will you?" Marlene asked, and her troubled voice lacked the composure of her sister's. "Why can you not?"

Stopping, Eries lowered her eyes to the carpet. "There is nothing… it is not my place to forgive," she said finally, voice clear and bright. She knew her sister to be crying, and did not dare turn, for fear that the older young woman would see her tears. "You are an adult, Marlene, and what choices you have made bear the weight of your knowledge and your responsibility. Take what you like, it is your right."

"You are just like him!" came the sobbed shout, and then there was the noise of a heavy statuette being shoved off one of the marble-topped tables in the room. "And I hate you as I hate him!"

Straightening her shoulders, Eries had stepped from the room, and started down the hallway, lifting one hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. Allen walked past her, for once, slower than normal, but when he made to ask after her state, pausing formally to address her, she said, "Tend to my sister if you would help me," and took off at a very undignified run down the hallway.

It was shortly after that Marlene left for Freid. Millerna was too young to understand more than that her sisters were not speaking, and one was leaving. She was enticed by the view of Marlene and Allen as they ascended the gangplank to notice that her sister, waiting in the carriage, wore a black veil over her face. And too young to care.

*

But because of her normally reserved nature, she had done nothing as rash as her sister. She had not gone after Millerna's betrothed. It was almost scary to think of Dryden, at that time, as her younger sister's future husband.

He was the same age as she was, and while his father was well connected and rich, he was alarmingly free of inhibitions. And rather ruthless in his pursuit of them. He put little thought into his future position as a prince and potentially a king.

And it was because of that train of behavior that Meiden and Grava had sent him on his travels. Once he returned his eyes were only for Millerna, thankfully, and he left the stoic middle princess to her own grave thoughts.

Allen is affronted. He lets go of her wrist and narrows his eyes at her. "Princess, I think you are over stepping your bounds by speaking of your deceased sister in such a manner. You don't know what-"

"Neither do you, Allen," she says softly, interrupting him and heading over to the door of her chamber. "It does not matter."

***

Working around the house is easy enough for Van, but it is rather boring as well. He needs to find a way to get back to Gaea, and figure out what had suddenly brought him to Earth.

The only thing he can think of doing is returning to the place where he and Hitomi had first traveled from Earth to his planet at, and it is confusing to try and find, since he doesn't know his way around, but eventually, after several days of hunting, he finds it.

It is a long walk up the steps to the temple, but a pleasant one as the sun is setting. The wooden gateways have been repaired, and repainted since the dragon had broken them almost seven years ago, and the flagstone has been refitted into its walkways.

The air around him feels much more like home the higher he climbs, and so when he reaches the familiar clearing, he continues up the steps on the mountain until he passes the temple buildings and comes to a level clearing where the sky was clearly visible as the stars began to twinkle into view with the sun setting properly.

There is a quiet breeze as he takes the necklace from around his neck and holds the pendant out. The pink stone, looking much like an energist in its glow in the moonlight, seems to pulse as he held it, and then it stops swinging, feeling completely still.

"Hitomi," he says quietly, closing his eyes and concentrating. "Gaea."

The pendant swings in a wide circle, and a brilliant flash of light descended from overhead, sweeping him up into the dimensional gap.

***

The main village of the Draconians is sparser than Tristan had imagined, but it is also much more comfortable. The tent he and Arik are staying in is much more permanent than the one in the hunting camp, and for the first time, Tristan gets to see what the Draconian women look like.

It is evening and he is helping to wash some of the evening's food with the women when they all lower their food into the bowls and head out of the tent. Curious, Tristan gets to his feet, the worn in boots making little noise on the covered ground as he follows the two elder women out into the center of the tent city.

The other members of the small tribe are already assembled, standing tall and proud with their glowing white wings borne proudly behind them. Or at least, almost all of the members of the gathering crowd. Across the circle he can make out Haruth, and standing just in front of the tallest of the tribe is Arik, who looks more like his daughter now that she is dressed like the other Draconians, wearing loose robes against the heat, and a pair of sturdy sandals.

Except that she keeps her wings hidden. And the back of her loose gown is closed so that her back is not exposed naked to sight. Tristan starts to step across the circle to join his Kathis and her father, but a strong hand, one of the warrior's, falls on his shoulder and holds him back gently.

Words are spoken by Haruth in the fluid language that Tristan still can make very little sense of, and then Arik and the rest of the tribe murmur their response, and she steps out of her sandals and into the circle.

Tristan is confused, for a moment, until the other young women in the tribe step forward as well, empty hands outstretched to the sky, feet bear to the dirt in the middle of the group. And then, after a moment, from every throat in the circle except his own, Tristan hears the singing.

The women, barefoot and with empty hands, rustle their wings and make slow movements in their robes, revealing, in the setting sunlight, their jewelry, silver bands around their wrists and ankles with the occasional band around an upper arm, all with inlaid pink stones.

Blinking, Tristan takes a closer look at the stones as one of the women moves past him. 'Energists? Why would they wear those in jewelry?' he thinks to himself, puzzled. He doesn't know much about Draconians, despite being of a people that inhabited the space they traveled through to originally get to Gaea, and hasn't ever been exposed to the idea of wearing a dragon's heart stone as jewelry before.

The singing rises in pitch slightly, and the cadence of the slow moving dance is taken up by a gentle stomping of the men's feet. But Tristan gets lost from the scene before him, feeling a shift in the Gap.

Excusing himself and threading through the crowd, he moves towards the edge of the camp, and stares out over the edge of the rocky cliff.

After a long moment of silence, he closes his eyes and concentrates on his homeland, the regular attunement of his body returning to show him what he's looking for. He can see the temple, or at least what is left of it after the battle that took place there. And the docks where the workmen's ships still sit, waiting to be called while still toiling away at the labors they had been put to by the invaders.

"What's wrong?" Arik asks quietly, having removed herself from the dance after noticing him missing. She is careful in her approach, and quiet, so that she doesn't startle him right off of the cliff.

"Someone's entered the Gap…"

A frown mars Arik's face. "Can you tell where?"

"I'm looking…" Tristan replies, bowing his head forward slightly, dark brown hair obscuring his face from view. In the clothing he has been given by the Draconians, he looks much different, to Arik, than the well-kept Priest she has grown to care for. 'He needs a haircut,' she thinks to herself, gray eyes watching him carefully for any sign of fatigue as he continues to search for the traveler with his mind.

The sun sinks below the horizon, and night starts to creep its way across the continent, but the two people at the edge of the evening's festivities make no movement. Finally, Tristan tilts his head backwards, shaking it and taking a lurching step forward, dangerously close to the edge and the drop down to the desert below.

Moving quickly, Arik grabs him by the back of his borrowed clothing and drags him from the edge, latching her strong arms securely around his waist.

"He's in the temple… and he has wings just like…" Tristan pants, clutching at his head as though in some sort of pain from something, "it's… Van…"

Arik quietly hushes him, pressing her cheek to the back of his neck. "We'll save him. The Temple's mostly abandoned anyway… the wards on it make them… uncomfortable to be there. You know that," she says in a soft soothing voice.


	5. Breadbasket

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Breadbasket [Part Five]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.  
_A/N: __I just have to say that I really love the flashback sequence in this one._

  
***

The first attack came unexpectedly. Both in time and place. Of all the nations of Gaea, the first strike logically would have gone to Asturia, since they had been weakened by the loss of their queen. But instead, it went to Egzardia.

The troops from Norte, having hidden in trading vessels from several of the country's merchant allies, stormed their way through Aves and into the heartland of the seaside nation with little resistance. Instead of burning the farmland and taking prisoners, however, they had left the countryside more or less intact, leaving small groups of guards, members of the trusted military force, to keep the peasantry in hand while the bulk of the army moved forward. The Egzardian military, in response to the overwhelming numbers and the element of surprise, fell back to protect Egadia, but were well aware that there would be little hope of success, once the scouts reported the size of the invading army.

They had been bolstering the reserve army, and raising militia to defend the land, but had waited until the harvest was over to call up the troops to station, and so were understaffed. The ground work was lain for the military to expand, but the manpower did not yet exist, the trained farm lads working with plows in the fields.

In the end, it was the better part of valor to retreat the scene and wait for a better time to fight rather than to try and raise the army at the knowledge of their attackers. And so the royal family and the people of Egadia, and the western half of the country, prepared to evacuate.

"I don't like turning tail and running," the king says to the captain of the guard as he mounts his horse, his wife and daughters being ushered into the carriage preparing to take them out of the country.

There is no certain destination for them, but the closest place to head to is Fanelia, and so, while sending advance warning to the castle, they had set that as their first destination. In both the king and the general's minds there is little doubt that they will be turned away, but not likely without at least well wishes from the Queen of the dragon country.

Getting there will be half the battle.

"Neither do I, highness," the guard captain says in return, handing him up his sword. "However there is no choice."

"We are unprepared to fend off Norte's attack. The army will join you once it is safe for us to retreat behind you," the general says, handing up the guard captain's sword once he mounts his horse.

"Godspeed," the king says to his general, looking to the women and then bowing his head slightly in the general's direction before making the command for the guard and the carriage to begin their departure.

The general, taking a deep breath, turns back towards the castle and the morning light, the fall of his boots heavy on the packed dirt road as he heads towards his troops. The upcoming retreating battle will be a difficult one, he knows, and he remains puzzled at the size of Norte's army. The country of Norte had never had as large a population to be able to raise such an army before. In the last war many of their soldiers had perished, and it was too soon for them to have been able to replace all of them, through either immigration or a population increase.

And there had been Guymelefs in the army that he had seen.

Large ones with the famous Ispano white finish had been reported.

It was the lingering fear in the minds of the soldiers after having seen the fighting of the only serviceable Ispano guymelef during the last war that made the troops so reticent to fight. Egzardia was largely a merchant country and so there was little cause for military guymelefs among the fleet of vessels used for trading.

Men did worse battle with an enemy they were unfamiliar with.

***

Rising from her kneeling position at the altar, Hitomi straightens her gown and heads out of the chapel, her footsteps obscenely loud in the quiet room. The sunlight filtering in through the stained glass windows is the only light inside, except for the candles on the altar and on the pillars lining the main aisle. A little bit of peace in the turbulent days she'd been having, ones filled with meetings and treaties and economic concerns.

It had started to affect her sleeping habits, making it harder and harder to get to bed at night, and in the mornings she often woke up with an upset stomach, throwing up on occasion. Her breakfast had gone down from a full meal to a little more than toast and orange juice because of it.

No one can tell how hard she is taking all the problems presented her, however, because her free time she spends alone in silence, trying to prepare herself for more of the same.

As she steps out, the guards close the thick wooden doors behind her.

Peralis comes jogging up to her almost immediately, Merle in tow.

"Your Majesty," Peralis coughs out, obviously out of breath from his frantic search to catch up with her. "Royal refugees have arrived… from Egzardia."

Merle, standing tall and disapproving behind the shorter advisor, swishes her tail behind her, batting her thick braid with it. Hitomi narrows jade green eyes at her friend's reaction. "What's wrong with refugees, Merle?"

"If they come, the people who are after them will surely follow…"

"As will the army that stayed to protect their retreat," Peralis adds.

"And that brings the war right to Fanelia's doorstep."

"I very much doubt that it is as urgent as either of you say," Hitomi says after a long pause, straightening her gown. "I will meet them in the throne room… Merle, I'll need you to bring my circlet, Peralis, see to it that the General is in attendance, I will need his council."

The short man bows deeply and scurries off about his duty and Merle speaks up, "You certainly were cut out for this, Hitomi," she says softly, one hand guiding her by the elbow towards the throne room. "I thought you'd fall apart after Van-"

"I did. You were just unconscious," Hitomi corrects softly. "I only hope that I am doing what he would do given the circumstances. I don't want him to have a ruined country to come home to…"

"And I'm certain that you're doing just fine," Merle reassures her, "I'll meet you in the throne room shortly with the circlet. Try to relax a bit." The tall cat woman heads off down a hallway, leaving Hitomi to make her way to the throne room in solitude.

Idly, she rings her hands. Neither she nor Van had ever mentioned to Merle what had happened during their brief stay in Egzardia, and she wonders what will happen now that she is queen and married to the man that Inah had thought to pair off with one of her daughters. Squaring her jaw as she steps through the opened doors to the throne room, she makes her way to her seat.

Now is not the time to obsess over little details like that.

***

"The first attack has come," Fariah announces, nodding her thanks to the messenger and motioning for him to be shown to quarters to rest in. Chid sits stoically silent over the remains of his meal, staring at the plate as though it holds all the answers to the upcoming turmoil.

When he finally looks up at her, his eyes almost break his Kathis' heart. "Survivors?" he asks in a meek tone.

"The royal family fled the country, and there were evacuations. By now Norte holds Egadia, if not the entire land that belonged to its people." She sets the scroll down near his meal and steps back.

"What does this mean?" Chid muses softly. "I need to speak with Hathei," he announces to the walls, but can sense movement meaning that the general is being sent for.

"Freid is not a direct neighbor to Egzardia," Fariah says in a quiet voice. "It may not mean anything to you and your people, yet, that it has fallen to the enemy."

"It will mean that the soldiers from Norte are better supplied than they were before. It will mean that they have a place to retreat to after future attacks," he runs a pale hand through his blond hair and looks down at his dinner plate in disgust.

At the same moment, Hathei, the tall, broadly built general of Freid, enters the room, bowing deeply to his sovereign before standing opposite Fariah.

"You have heard the news?" Chid asks gently.

"Yes, my Duke. Norte has taken Egzardia."

"What are your thoughts on this?"

"Norte by itself is a rocky country, a mining people live there that import almost all of their food from other countries. In the past, Egzardia was their chief supplier…" Hathei says, "Which brings into question whether or not the retreat of the monarchs is a genuine one or a feint to aide their ally."

"But King Benanoir and Queen Inah have fled their homeland to seek shelter elsewhere. Logic would conclude that they are not supporters of Norte," Fariah says, gray eyes puzzled. She had never been at the top of the group when it came to political strategy, though she was good at infiltration and at leading a group.

There were other Kathis that were better at strategy than she was. For instance, Selassie, who had received no external assignment, recently appointed as the Mistress of Strategy in charge of teaching other young hopefuls the arts she had mastered well. Perhaps, Fariah thinks quietly, it will do her good to seek out her old friend's advice.

"Logic is not always required when contemplating betrayal, miss Fariah," Hathei says, turning his deep brown eyes on her. "Betrayal often defies logic."

"I see," Fariah replies, hearing what Selassie would say in the general's words.

"And your recommendation, General?"

"I recommend that the guard on the palace be increased, and that more soldiers be called up into the army to defend Freid in case of an attack. It may not come soon, but there is little doubt that Norte will not overlook us forever, my Duke."

"Make it so," Chid replies, still staring at his dinner plate. "You may go."

The general eyes Fariah closely, as though weighing her worth with her mass, and snorts under his breath. What good could a slip of a girl like her do for the Duke? He dismisses the reports from earlier about how she has twice saved his life, preferring to take the same stance that Chid's adopted father took in regards to members of her order.

Fariah can see his judgment of her worth in his brown eyes as he passes.

Dispensable.

She shudders, and turns her eyes to the ornate carvings on the wall, getting lost, quickly, in the patterns. The military is, afterall, none of her concern.

In the past, occasionally, especially in Freid, the Kathis had joined with the military to aide in protecting the palace, but not this time. Especially not with that sort of an attitude from the general.

Slowly, Chid picks up his utensils and begins eating again.

***

The thick doors to the throne room open, and the small entourage from Egadia enters, looking travel worn. Seated on her throne, Hitomi's heart goes out to the four daughters as they straggle in, obviously worn out from their travel, looking disheveled.

King Benanoir lowers himself to one knee, and at his side, Queen Inah lowers herself to both knees, bowing her head. Behind them the four princesses do the same. "It is on hard times that we make this visit," the king says, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Norte has attacked our country, and we were unprepared for such a massive attack. We have had to abandon our country, and so, our only safe place to stay.

"We kneel before you here, Queen Hitomi Kanzaki de Fanel, to ask for shelter within the walls of your castle and the boundary of your country, bringing nothing more than ourselves, and the promise of the remnants of our army to bolster yours in the event of an attack."

A small smile threatened on her face to hear, for the first time, someone address her by her married name, but she forces it to the side, contemplating. She glances over at Merle, who still looks distrustful, and then at Peralis, whose expression is almost pleading. After a long moment of deliberation, she speaks, "You may rise, King Benanoir, as may your family. You have never been anything but kind to me since I have met you. I cannot make such a serious decision without conferring with my advisors, however, until that decision is made, you are more than welcome to stay in the palace and make yourselves comfortable." She rises as they do, and bows her head graciously.

Inah takes her husband's hand, clasping it tightly. It is more than she had dared to hope for, after her inadvertent faux pas when Van and Hitomi had passed through their country. The girls behind her, as they stand, breathe a sigh of relief.

"Merle," Hitomi says, "have them shown to a suitable set of rooms. Peralis, call the advisors together, I will speak with them before dinner."

The two indicated people nod in response, moving off to do their assigned tasks, and Hitomi heads out the side door of the throne room without further comment. Her stomach is upsetting her, suddenly, and she feels the need to find a bathroom quickly.


	6. Frail Leisure

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Frail Leisure [Part Six]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.  
_A/N: __I just have to say that I really love the flashback sequence in this one._

  
***

Angrily, Allen throws the Knights Caeli through another round of practice drills in their swordsmanship. He cannot fathom why Eries would be so elusive and cold to him. Just when she was beginning to warm up to him after so much time.

In the balconies above the practice courtyard, the young women of the castle watch in fascination as the younger of the knights and their commander practice. Celena among them. Though her brother cannot quite fathom what would upset the princess so, she had listened in on the conversation, and could recall, once or twice, seeing the older princess brought out to the manor where the Schezar family resided before Leon disappeared.

The veiled princess had always appeared, even as a child, to be very withdrawn, but whenever she had come to visit, or rather the two occasions that Celena could remember her, she had been kind, and brought a present for her. The princess had never been less than kind to Celena, even since she had come to return to the palace, if anything, she had been more wary than mean.

And Celena can understand that, given the things she is beginning to remember. As her blue eyes follow the movements of the young knights below, she finds that she can pick out when they are attacking improperly, or when they are going to be knocked over by her brother's skill.

It unsettles her that such knowledge can somehow be hiding in the back of her mind without her being aware of it. Almost as upsetting as knowing what her brother cannot, for all his intelligence and skill with a sword, seem to come up with.

That he and Princess Eries were betrothed at birth.

Turning, she leaves the balcony area and heads towards the Princess's chambers, having been instructed to help her prepare herself for her next meeting. News of some sort had come to Palas, and the pale haired princess had some inkling as to what it was that made her want to be formally attired to meet with them.

It would take nearly two hours for that, and so she has no more time to contemplate her returning memories.

***

"Something's wrong," Jasper says, pacing in the den.

"What do you mean?" Kira replies, pulling her embroidery needle through the rich fabric that will soon be a christening gown for their child.

"Nileyah's never gone this long. It's been two months…"

"Are you so sure it's not because of me?" Kira asks quietly, violet eyes turned down to her work, but she risks a quick glance up at her husband. "If she found out I'd gotten pregnant…"

"It's only a logical conclusion," Jasper replies, kneeling next to her chair and kissing her cheek tenderly. "Married women get pregnant all the time." With a grin he adds, "I'm actually rather proud."

Swatting half-heartedly at him, she rolls her eyes. "You would be."

"Well it's good to know," he replies, kissing her cheek again. "Especially after what news just came in from outside."

"News? Why didn't you tell me?" she sets down her embroidery.

"Because I don't want to upset you worrying about things you have no control over. It's not good for the baby." He gets to his feet and turns towards the hearth, staring into the fire with troubled green eyes.

"Jasper, if you start basing what you tell me on 'what's good for the baby' you're going to find yourself in a very cold bed with a very vapid wife." She stands and follows him over to the hearth, putting her arms around him. "We're in this together, and if I don't know, it's easier to surprise us here, isn't it?"

"I suppose you're right," he grudgingly admits, sighing into the embrace. "Norte took Egzardia. The royal family has fled."

"Egzardia is to our southern border," Kira says, voice trembling slightly.

"Yes," Jasper replies, turning slightly to embrace his wife. "It is, but there is a mountain range between our two countries that makes it nearly impossible to directly invade us from the other side. It is the same mountain range that moves northward to protect Fanelia similarly. Called the Dragon's Back because of it. We sit at the dragon's tail." He strokes her back comfortingly. "Come, it's time for dinner… and mother will want to discuss our next actions. In the morning, we will ride out to visit the city, as planned. There is no sense in hiding in our castle when the danger is not yet near our doorstep."

***

The horses were tethered, and Arik was tending to replacing the saddles and their belongings on them. Tristan stood nervously watching for the approach of the men of the tribe, but none of them seemed intent on disturbing the two travelers from their departure.

And then Haruth glided down to land nearby. "Whare are yees goin'?" he asked in his scratchy voice. It only seemed to take on the age that the old warrior appeared to wear when he was using the pidgin language that Tristan could understand.

In his own language, his voice was fluid and almost musical. And during the nightly singing, it rang the loudest in the group.

"There is a traveler that has entered my homeland," Tristan says, by way of explanation. "And he does not deserve the fate that he will come to if he's caught stranded there."

"Wat cancern of eit is yers wat haapens to thae traveleir?"

"He saved our lives. He is a king of his people."

_ "And he is one of us,"_ Arik adds without looking up from her preparations. _"King Van is the son of Varie, father."_

Tristan blinks, having only made out two of the words from the phrases Arik said. 'Van' and 'Varie'. Haruth's reaction is obvious almost instantly. _"Then you will take with you one of the warriors. If this king is in danger, it concerns all of us, and should not be ignored."_

_ "I could not guarantee that the warrior would return, father. We left Ispano because it was attacked and overrun by invaders. The people are slaves, the workers forced to do an evil tyrant's bidding. We go because we know the way."_

_ "Do not argue!"_ Haruth snaps.

Bowing her head over the saddle before strapping it, she says to Tristan, "We will have one more with us."

"But I can't speak the language of your father's people," he protests, watching Haruth as he strides across the small expanse towards the tent village. "I won't know how to-"

"I do speak the language," Arik says. "And it's useless to argue with my father when he gets in one of these moods. Besides, we will likely need the assistance."

"I do not agree. You've always been enough to protect me before… and you and I know the temple better than whoever will be sent with us. I don't agree…"

"I have failed you once," Arik says softly, handing him the reigns to his horse. "I do not intend to fail you again. And two swords are better than one."

Haruth returns with one of the warriors, Skan. The tall warrior, who is half a head taller than Tristan, with silver-white hair and deep reddish brown eyes. Tristan looks at him closely for the first time, comparing him with Haruth, who also has red tinted eyes. The warrior bows deeply to the two of them, and offers Arik up a bracelet with an energist.

Confused, and feeling possessive of his Kathis, Tristan starts to object, but Arik takes the bracelet in one hand and reaches for Tristan's wrist, slipping it on easily. "What's this about?" he asks, puzzled.

"The energist in the bracelet will tell Skan where you are, and so he will easier keep track of you. It is one use that Draconians make of their energists."

"_Their_ energists?"

"It is a complicated thing," Arik says, leaping onto her horse. "Let's get going now before we waste any more time."

With a slight frown, Tristan climbs into his own saddle, eyeing Haruth and Skan warily. Haruth laughs, and extends a hand up to his daughter in the saddle. _"Your man acts as though he is being replaced by the guardian I am sending with the two of you,"_ he says merrily. _"You should reassure him, Skan is only going to offer what you allow him to. Take this,"_ he adds, opening his large hand, _"in case you get stranded without your priest. It will bring you safely home."_

***

Seated regally in her throne, Eries listens to the hustle and bustle of the advisors, and casts a sidelong glance at Dryden, who is sitting only half attentive in his own throne. Just past him, she sees Allen, standing at strict attention, and turns her full attention back to the squabbling advisors.

"Egzardia has fallen to Norte. There were guymelefs-"

"-Ispano guymelefs… Ispano is siding with Norte-"

"-after taking over Egzardia, they will be well supplied to feed their army."

"Silence," Eries says, sitting taller in her throne. "The invasion and capture of Norte notwithstanding, what other news has arrived?"

"The monarchs have gone to Fanelia seeking refuge. The Queen has not yet turned them away," one of the foreign ministers says.

"Word has come from Cesario and Daedelus, supporting us in case of an attack."

"What of Fanelia?" Eries asks delicately, blue eyes reserved as she glances around the darkened room at the faces at the table. "Has the Queen agreed to support us?"

"The reply from Fanelia is not an answer, your highness, but a question."

"What question might that be?"

"The Fanelian Queen asks, instead, what our answer would be if they were attacked. Or if they were to go to war with Norte."

Eries sits back slightly, pondering that. She is well aware that the wedding ceremony had been attacked, and that on the day of the wedding, Van had disappeared. The culprit was, of course, Norte. However the invading troops had been overcome by the defending troops shortly after the disappearance of the king, and the queen had escaped unharmed.

But to go on the offensive without Van? Would Hitomi be so bold… putting her fingers into a steeple before her, Eries thinks seriously. 'However that is a response in itself, a carefully disguised one, I must admit. Hitomi is clever. She always seemed to loathe war, though…'

Standing, finally, Eries disregards her advisors for a moment and says, "We will adjourn until this afternoon. I must confer with the king before making any further decisions."

Unhappily, the advisors file out of the darkened council room, and the doors are shut behind them. The other guards in the room file out, but Allen lingers for a moment. When he isn't sent away by either the king or the princess, he figures that whatever must be said is fine for his ears, at least.

"What Hitomi is really asking is if Fanelia supports Asturia, if Asturia will do the same for Fanelia… but her answer is plain in the letter," Eries says, eyes boring into Dryden as she retakes the seat on her throne. "If we are attacked, Fanelia will support us."

"It doesn't say that," Allen says when Dryden remains silent. "She's countering your question with another question. Fanelia is prepared to go to war, to protect itself… there's never been a formal alliance between the two countries. I think-"

"Perhaps its time we made one, then," Eries says, interrupting.

"On what basis?" Allen asks.

"I think it could start with mutual protection. Like it or not Gaea is at war again… and once it's blown over Millerna and Dryden may do with the treaty whatever they wish."

Dryden remains seated uncaringly on his throne. The mention of Millerna had caused a stab of chain in his chest, and an echoing wonder in his mind as to when he will next see his beautiful wife.

"Tell the advisors we will meet with them later," Eries announces, rising from her seat once more and crossing to Dryden, whom she helps to his feet and guides out of the throne room.

Allen rolls his eyes as he watches them walk away, but as they turn the corner, he sees Celena staring at him with dark eyes and a serious expression. He starts to speak to her, but she turns and heads off.

With a sigh, rather tired of complicated women at the moment, Allen heads off after the advisors. Whatever is bothering his sister will simply have to wait.

***

"You were early," Ouran says softly to Aden as he checks in on his servant. The blow he had taken down in the secret dungeon had left him weaker than it might have, if he were not bound in the manner that he was.

But Daeluzito knows that without the collar, after having had the man locked into it for so long, he would likely be fighting a very powerful adversary. One that he would not be able to beat for a second time.

His allegiances are not of the sort that he can request help from them in subduing his 'servant' in such an eventuality, and the people of Norte only follow him half-heartedly at best. The soldiers are the only people in the country truly loyal to him, and they are not kept in abundance in the castle.

The usurping king wishes, again, that he could be riding into battle with them rather than staying in the castle and waiting to hear news of their success. But with a kidnapped Queen in the basement and a people not completely supporting him, there is little he can do to go and join them.

Until the time is right.

"I have never before been chastised for doing my job more efficiently than normal."

"You've never been injured in performing such a simple duty before." Daeluzito narrows his eyes at Aden, "It's suspicious."

"I have already apologized for what happened, sire, there is nothing more for me to do." His brown eyes are lowered to the floor and shielded from the king's view by his dark, unkept hair. "I would like to be allowed to go back to my duties, if that is acceptable to you."

Narrowing his brown eyes at the reclining man, Daeluzito considers the request. "See to it that it doesn't happen again, Aden, or I might have run out of use for you."


	7. Before Dawn

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Before Dawn [Part Seven]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence. 

  
***

Merle steps quietly into the chamber, blue eyes looking around in serious contemplation. Something is wrong with Hitomi, she figures, and it's up to her to figure it out. The Fanelian queen is lying in bed, the light from the two moons illuminating her form in the darkness of the night that enshrouds the castle.

"Hitomi," Merle says softly, stepping over to stand next to the bed and glance down at the unconscious woman. "What's wrong?"

Pale eyelids flutter in the only response to Merle's soft questioning, the silent queen deep in a confusing dream.

*

"Folken?" Hitomi asks, looking around the space of her dream. The ruins of Fanelia, as they had been in the last war, greet her eyes, the rumble of the dragons in the distance a pleasant reminder of home. She can not sense Van anywhere in the wreckage, so the only logical person that she might come across, in such a dreamscape, would be his brother.

But Folken was dead.

And the only noise was the echoing of the dragons off the mountains.

It was something she had only recently come to notice about her new homeland, her husband's country truly was defended by dragons. She wondered what had drawn the people and the dragons together before Varie had become queen, there never having been mention of other Draconians in Fanelia in the records she had looked through in the library.

"Hitomi?" the voice was startled, almost surprised, and as she heard it, the image of Folken, a whole Folken, appeared before her. "What's happened?"

"Van… he…"

***

Stumbling up the road, Nileyah forces herself to keep on her feet. The report has to be made, before anything else can happen. She managed, with the last of her strength, to cast the spell that brought her to the Compound, but it had drained her weak body more than she cared to admit, more than she would ever admit.

Luckily, the watchman on duty sees her weary approach and heads out quickly to help her inside. He helps her in and takes her straight to report to the overseer for the day, who happens to be Jujiin.

"Nileyah? What's happened… is Cesario in trouble?" He asks, calling for Mot to bring the healer to the room as he helps her to stretch out before the fire.

"I was kidnapped before I could return from Palas to Zari with the prince… hasn't word come from there that I was missing?"

"None," Jujiin replies, tipping a glass of water up to her lips. "Does this mean that…"

"Aden is still in Norte… he was at the anniversary in Palas… he must've-" she breaks off into a fit of coughing and cannot finish her sentence.

"Of course, that's all I can think of that makes sense…" Jujiin soothes the water down her throat, keeping a hand firmly on her shoulders to steady her body as she convulses involuntarily. "It would, afterall, explain why we haven't had word of your 'disappearance' from the Queen Emman or the Prince." He hesitates slightly before adding, "Or the princess."

"Kira?" Nileyah asks in response, attempting to catch her breath. When Jujiin nods, she relaxes a little, "She will… be good to him."

"Word is that she is pregnant," Jujiin says, offering her more water, "Which means that you won't be called upon for that duty. However, this means that you will still be required to protect the prince and princess…"

"I am aware," she replies meekly to the Etiquette Master. "I will be more than happy in such a position, should he be happy himself."

"Good," Jujiin replies as Selassie enters, bearing supplies to dress the wounds on her wrists and ankles, as well as the scrapes on her arms and legs through the tattered clothing she is wearing. "I will see what can be done about the situation regarding him, and perhaps about getting you a companion for your post, now that there is official war among the countries. Selassie," he smiles at the woman as she kneels next to the padded bench, her white hair drawn back from her face by two intricate braids, "will bring you up to speed on what's been happening while you have been away."

As Jujiin leaves the room, Selassie gently encourages Nileyah to lie back against the padded bench, hushing her comments with a quiet, "It will be all right, mother," before beginning to relay the required information.

***

"What's wrong, Jasper?" Kira asks quietly, slipping her arms around him from behind as he climbs into bed, later than her, as had become the norm recently.

Blowing out the candle and setting it on the bedside stand, he turns and tucks Kira's face under his chin. "Nileyah hasn't returned yet… I'm beginning to assume the worst, which is probably the truth. She was acting strangely since we returned from Palas, and throughout the wedding…"

"I thought that was just because of how she feels about you," Kira says softly against his neck, easily slipping closer and closer towards falling asleep.

"I wonder, now, if that's all that it was that was making her act so," Jasper muses, aware of the change in her breathing and stroking her hair soothingly. "It's of no concern at the moment, if something's gone wrong there is little we can do about it… yet."

Perhaps, if Kira had been a little more awake, and a little less pregnant, she might have noticed the tender tone of her husband's voice, and gotten somewhat jealous. But as it is, she simply allows the hand in her hair to do it's job, and falls gently asleep.

Staying awake, Jasper glances down at his wife for a long moment, contentedly, and then out the window at the night sky. 'Nil… I didn't want to hurt you, but we both knew that it couldn't have been any other way.' He sighs, softly, resigning himself, 'But if I have anything to do with what's happened to you… I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself.'

***

Sitting up slowly in bed, Hitomi puts a hand to her lips in thought. Something about the dream she has just had is disconcerting, but hope inspiring. It wasn't what has woken her up, however, and shortly after gaining her bearings she feels the tug of the reason she has been awoken, and makes her way quickly to the bathroom, brushing straight past Merle.

"Hitomi?" Merle asks, following the queen tentatively.

After recovering her wits, and glancing down at the remains of her dinner in disgust, Hitomi wipes her mouth and reaches for a glass of water to ease the burning in her throat before answering. "Merle… what are you doing in here?"

"Did something you ate not agree with you…?" the tall cat woman asks with a serious look on her face. "You've not been sick since you came to Gaea, have you?"

"No," Hitomi replies. "It's probably nothing… the meal was a little spicy last night, I don't always eat spicy things… that's probably what the matter is." Arching a brow at her friend, she counters with, "What are you doing in Van's bedroom anyway?"

"It's yours too, now," Merle says quietly. "And I haven't spoken to you in a few days, I was wondering if something was wrong." Hitomi pushes herself to her feet and walks back towards the bed, the sky outside her window just starting to lighten with the first hints of dawn. "Obviously my concern was not misplaced…"

"What do you mean by that, Merle?"

"Hitomi, how long have you been getting sick in the mornings?"

"A few weeks," comes the hesitant reply.

"And waking up this early? You've been sleeping poorly, I can tell, because of the circles under your eyes…"

"People died, Merle," Hitomi replies, collapsing in a heap on the large bed and drawing one of the pillows to her chest and hugging it. "I hate war… it's so brutal…"

"But if you had to go to war, because Fanelia would be attacked, you'd do it, wouldn't you?" A slow nod of Hitomi's head is the only response as she tucks her chin down against the pillow. "Even if Van doesn't get home before that time comes?"

"Especially," Hitomi replies, softly, "I won't let Fanelia fall because he was away, I don't think I could… live with myself if I lost his country after he's done so much to protect and maintain it."

"You are a good queen for him, Hitomi," Merle says, stepping forward to brush the sandy blond hair from Hitomi's face, her bright perwinkle eyes searching Hitomi's jade green ones for a long moment before she finishes with, "and I'm sure your child will be just as fit of a successor for the two of you."

Startled, Hitomi's head snaps up. "What do you mean?" she exclaims, eyes wide.

"It's morning sickness, from what I can tell," Merle replies matter-of-factually, stroking her cheek gently, once, before drawing away. "Don't worry, it'll pass."


	8. Reluctant Truths, pt 1

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Reluctant Truths, pt. 1 [Part Eight]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

Seated quietly, staring out her window, Eries fingers the pendant of a locket in her hands. The advisors had agreed with her on the reply she finally sent off to Hitomi and Fanelia, pledging mutual support. Dryden had even agreed to it, and Allen had grudgingly agreed to it as well. He somehow seemed proud of her.

The Egzardian nobles had sent their apologies with the next letter that Hitomi drafted to Eries, saying that their forces, once mustered again, would be bolstering Fanelia, since the queen had agreed to protect them while their country was indisposed and occupied by the Norte.

There is a knock on the door.

"Come in," Eries says quietly, eyes still trained out the window and on the distant mountains. She missed, truthfully, the convent and its simple way of life. The sisters were a comfort, and the quiet there was endless. It both suited her needs and left her restless, but staring up at the Floresta mountains, she felt the call of the silence once again.

Celena stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Princess," she says in a soft, tired voice.

"What is it, Celena?"

"I've come to speak with you about my brother," she replies, blue eyes lowered respectfully, falling on the necklace in Eries' lap. She recognizes it instantly. As a child, she and Allen had been given similar ones, made as copies of the necklace their mother wore. When Encia had passed away, the princess had been given the necklace as a default, since Allen had run away from his home, and it was the one thing of the family's that she had kept out of storage.

The rest had been returned to Allen when he became a Knight Caeli, though he hadn't unpacked any of his mother's things until Celena had returned.

"What about your brother?"

Swallowing and moistening her lips, Celena forces herself to continue, having been thrown off by seeing the princess's care in handling the necklace, and the fondness she showed it. "You two are engaged," the younger woman finally says, lifting her eyes to regard the princess's finally.

"We were betrothed at birth," Eries corrects her, motioning with a pale hand for the younger woman to come closer and take a seat on the divan across from her, "but it is something that has not been honored by either party. And it is obvious from his past behavior that your brother has never thought of me in the manner that would be required of him were he my husband."

"He has always thought you were above him," Celena replies, stepping forward to look out the window quietly. She thought she could hear pain in the princess' voice. But she wasn't sure. It was hard to be sure of Eries' emotions, even for the princess herself. Reading her was like trying to climb a mountain in mid-winter… something that Celena can almost remember having done. "From what he's told me, Marlene's advances were-"

"My sisters have always had more beauty than I," Eries says, cutting off whatever explanation Celena had for her brother's behavior. "It is something I have known since I was very small, something my father knew as well, and made obvious to me. I take after my mother in that regard, and he sought to save me the pain of watching them happily married by gaining me a husband when I was young."

"If you told him-"

"What good would telling Allen that he has wronged me without knowing it do him? Or me? I am not so malicious as all that, Celena," she says softly, extending the hand with the necklace in it to her. "It would hurt him, needlessly. Your brother does not care for me, but the honor he has found in himself in the past few years would be wounded by the knowledge you and I hold, and whereas once the idea of being married was once more important to me than love and the feelings of others, I find circumstances have changed."

"What do you mean?" Celena replies, shaking her head slightly at the necklace. She did not want to take it back, if it meant what she thought the princess meant it to. Allen deserved someone like Eries, in her mind, someone who could truly make him happy, and be a match for him, rather than just another pretty thing on his arm.

"The betrothal cannot be taken back, since those that betrothed us are no longer among us. However, I can take a vow to become one of the sisters at the convent I will return to when Millerna returns, and free him up for someone he does care about."

"But, Princess… why would you sacrifice-?"

"It is little sacrifice, since I am not giving up anything that I knew before." Again, Eries offers up the necklace to Celena. "You should be the one to have this," she says with a kind smile, "it was, after all, your mother's."

* * *

Saying goodbye to Selassie had been harder than Nileyah could imagine. She had not seen her daughter in several years, since just after the girl had started to walk. It made her feel proud that her pale haired daughter was doing so well for herself in the Consortium.

Especially since she had been passed over for the most recent assignment that had come available. Although, in reflection, Nileyah is relieved that her daughter is not out amongst the people of Gaea, since the war brewing would mean that many of the Kathis would perish protecting those they were assigned to.

But she said goodbye and headed back to Zari the quickest way possible, though she has not truly managed to heal fully. There are still deep gashes on her wrists from where she fought against the manacles that held her in chains in the dungeon in Reyo, and her strength and health had not fully recovered. However, the decision was that it was most important that Cesario not be left defenseless without someone aware of the danger it was in.

In the pack on the back of her horse is a freshly forged sword, and medical supplies special to her wounds. Unlike other members of the Kathis, she needed special treatment for her wounds, in order to maintain her strength and appearance.

When she approaches the castle, the guards give her a warm welcome, though there is a bit of tension in the air. Tension that follows her straight into the presence of the country's sovereign, and down into her kneeling position at the Queen's feet.

"What brings you back so tardy, Nileyah?" Emman asks, eyes trained on the pale woman before her.

"I regret to inform you, Highness, that the me that was with you and left you before was not myself, but rather someone spying on Cesario for Norte."

"Really?" Emman frowns. She and Jasper had been having talks about Nileyah's behavior, and they had come to the eventual conclusion that she was either under a spell, or being impersonated. "If that is the truth, how can I be sure that the you that is here at the moment is the true you?"

"I am most certain the replacement that was here did little talking about things, and I offer myself up for examination and questioning to prove that I am who I claim. If I fail to convince you, I invite you to do with me what you wish."

Tilting her head, Emman glances to the alcove across from Nileyah, and nods slowly. "That won't be necessary," Jasper says, stepping out. "I'll know if it's you… but you have to stand and face me."

Keeping her head bowed, Nileyah rises to her feet, turning in the direction of Jasper's voice, feeling slightly cold at the idea of having him determine her fate.

"Why don't you look me in the eye, Nil?"

"Because I've failed you… again. You were in danger while I got captured, and it's entirely my fault that-"

Jasper reaches out and tilts her face up, brushing her shorn, dark hair from her face and regarding her eyes deeply for a long moment, searching. It is something he hadn't done since Palas, because he'd felt warded off by Nileyah in general.

It makes much more sense to him now, as he stares into her eyes and reads exactly what she had just said while kneeling before his mother. All he can see, and he can sense that she feels, is acceptance of his judgment.

If he turns her away, he knows, she will go willingly. As she had done other things willingly for him in the past. But despite knowing how much his choice must have hurt her, and how much going forward will hurt her, he cannot lie now and discredit her to his mother.

"It's her," he says, staring her in the eyes with a forlorn look. It would have been kinder, he thinks to himself, to have condemned her, after what he'd done while she had been gone. There's little lingering doubt in his mind, after the soul-searching moment, that it was largely his fault she had been off-guard enough to be caught.

And he cannot, he finds, turn her away after all the wrong he has done her.

* * *

Word finally comes to Freid from the Compound, by way of a small white bird that is sent to Fariah's window. It is exceedingly late at night, Chid already having gone to bed with his guards posted at the door when it arrives, and Fariah, seated near her window with her thick hair down as she brushes it, is slightly puzzled until she recognizes the creature as one that she raised while at the Compound.

"Rin?" she asks the little bird quietly and receives a chirp. Holding out her hand, the Kathis lifts her old pet from the windowsill, and finds a piece of paper wrapped around its leg. Carefully setting Rin down on her table, she slips off the piece of paper and stands, heading towards the open center area of her room.

The messages sent by Kathis aren't often just pieces of paper, she knows from her training, and so she goes to close the large wooden door before reciting the words on the small paper. The light filtering through the window in the evening seeming to condense until it forms the image of her childhood friend, Selassie.

"It is good to see you again, Fariah," she says with a smile, her pale features recreated perfectly, along with the fall of her richly decorated formal robes. "I trust the Duke is doing well?"

"Chid is sleeping peacefully, at the moment, under the watchful eyes of his sworn guard. I am not well liked in Freid, not well trusted because of Mahad's attitude. It has transferred to his attendants, and his son."

"His aunt, the Asturian Queen, has been kidnapped, and the Egzardian monarchs are in Fanelia."

"I am aware."

"We know where the Asturian woman is hidden, it behooves us to make the monarchs aware that she will likely not be harmed at all, regardless of the outcome." After a short pause, the pale haired woman adds, "My uncle is with her."

"Your uncle-"

"Is worse off than the missing queen, but in better stead as well. We are a strong family. When the time comes, he will do what is needful. Your Duke is among those we would have know what is known of the queen, since there are none in Asturia to send word to."

"The prince is not old enough, and Marlene had the Kathis, if I am not mistaken."

"She did, and it lead him to where you are, to replace a dead woman, and he died for his Duke. Freid is ever hard on its protectors, both serving and bred alike."

"Chid is not Mahad," Fariah says defensively.

"And you are not Erile or Leran. But I bid you be cautious, my friend. I would not like to see the beauty of the mountains and temples swallow another of our number so young."

"And you would not envy me this posting, or want to refill it yourself," Fariah replies, quick gray eyes even. "You are more his type than I anyway."

"It is not about types, Fari, you know that."

"Quite."

"The Mistress and the Council have decided that you are to get word to Eries and Dryden in Asturia of their queen's whereabouts. The rest is up to them, for the time being. We of the Kathis can do no more."

The enchantment from the scroll begins to fade, and the color copy of Selassie begins to fade from sight. Bowing her head, Fariah makes the sign of acceptance, and Selassie nods her head as well. "I hope you keep well and safe, Fariah, and that I will see you on good terms soon."

And with that, she is gone, and the paper in Fariah's fingers crumples and turns to dust. She lifts her hand, and Rin flaps over to her. Stroking the small creature's soft feathers, she pulls the door open and heads off, barefoot through the castle to try and find a small cage for him, more protection than hindrance for the bird, and so that she can keep her old pet a little while.

Something friendly in an unfriendly environment.

Fariah takes in a deep breath and turns on her heel, bare feet making little enough noise to be silent on the old, cold stone of the palace floors, and she steps into the hall, the shift she had worn to bed her only proof against the chill, though she does not notice it.

In the hallway she moves silently, thinking better of her actions, and sets the small bird reverently on her shoulder, heading to Chid's room. Pushing open the doors and disregarding the guards in the entranceways, those that tense at her disrobed approach, but make no move to stop her as she passes by them.

Closing the thick wooden doors behind her, she pauses a moment with her back against the carvings, feeling the aged wood like a comfort against her, and finally, she speaks. "Chid, my duke."

But he does not awaken immediately, and she has to repeat her call. Startled, he sits up quickly to regard his Kathis with a blank look before scowling. "It's the middle of the night, Fariah."

"And wars do not care whether it is the middle of the night or if you have had enough sleep and are well rested."

"Unless I've missed my guess, Freid isn't _at_ war."

"But your aunt's country is. And Norte is their enemy."

"Please tell me you did not wake me up this early in the night to tell me something I already knew, Fariah." He frowns, glancing at her with cold blue eyes that are older than the prince himself.

"Not at all," she replies, folding her arms on her chest. Perhaps Chid is right, she reasons, perhaps the news could have waited until the morning, but then his mind would be weighed down with the worries of the crown. "But I have word that must be taken to the monarchs in Asturia, and either you will give me leave to travel, or we will be making the journey together."

"What can you possibly-?"

"That," she says in an arched voice, "is a matter for the morning. Think on my words, my Duke." She turns on her heel, bare feet taking her from his chamber, head held high and shoulders squared proudly, despite her lack of impersonal apparel.

For a moment, Chid stares after her, and then blinks, a slight blush raising to his cheeks. "I told you to call me Chid!" he shouts as the door closes firmly behind her.

* * *

"Your Highness," the courier bows before Hitomi, seated on her throne which stands lonely and empty beside Van's in the main hall of the Fanelian Castle, "I bring word from Asturia in response to your message."

"Rise, and bring it forward," Hitomi says, taking some comfort in the formality. Since Merle had named her illness, it had become much calmer, and Hitomi silently wonders if it is because it has a name. Of the advisors, only Peralis has been informed of her state, and of the servants, only her head lady in waiting. She relies on her crown and the position of Queen more and more, and knows the secrecy cannot hold out forever.

'Van,' she prays with her eyes closed slightly, 'come back soon.'

The letter is taken by one of the royal guard, and marched stiffly over to her. She breaks the seal on it and reads the words, handing it over to Peralis, who stands over her shoulder as she holds her weekly audience, hearing the problems the people see fit to bring before the throne.

After reading it as well, Peralis nods wordlessly.

"Please, feel free to rest yourself before we make our reply," Hitomi says, rising without further comment and heading towards her own exit, a single red gilded door leading to the rest of the palace. There are three such non-public exits from the throne room, not all of them known outside of herself, Merle, Van, and Peralis himself. The messenger had come towards the end of the audience, and the rest of the peasants and guildmasters would understand if she finished it the next day.

Allan's words from long ago return to her, and she takes some comfort in them as she crosses an open aired balcony towards the royal chambers. Outside it is raining, and the damp air freshens her senses. _"Don't worry. Van will return, because the most important person in the world to him is here. You."_


	9. Reluctant Truths, pt 2

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Reluctant Truths, pt. 2 [Part Nine]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

Unsure of how to proceed with his dealings in the Palace, Allen seeks out the only man he had managed to trust almost his entire life. Gaddes.

The slightly older man was also of noble birth, though his parents had a lesser tragedy that befell them, and it was after he had joined the knighthood, so it did not affect him as much. It had been Gaddes who had taken young Allen away from the rainy funeral proceedings of his mother, and his family who had helped the young Schezar pay for them when the collection master had come looking for the money.

While the Crusade is in the dock above the city, he knows he will find his childhood savior at the family's holding that he still maintains just to the south of the market and back in a shaded recess that fell back into the mountains. Mounting his horse, Allen set out just after breakfast while Eries and Dryden headed off to meet with advisors. A tedium of meetings, it seems to him, is all the current war has meant for Asturia, except the loss of the queen.

When he arrives at his friend and second's home, one of the house servants takes the reigns to his horse and he is ushered inside with a friendly smile and a murmur of, "The master will see you shortly."

They did not use Gaddes' title here, for good reason. Allen never did either. What had happened to Gaddes after joining the knighthood, not the Knights Caeli but the Brotherhood of the Sea Guardian, as the order was known, was that he had indulged himself in less than honorable acts with which to restore his family's holdings.

The monarchy had easily turned a blind eye on it, since the piracy he had committed not only brought the magnificent ship that was later named The Crusade, under their relative control, but because Grava was not without an eye at counter-marketing strategies, and he knew that Zaibach was also well positioned and well equipped to become a powerful merchant company.

"So what brings you here?" Gaddes calls down from where he is lounging against the balustrade on the top of the balcony, looking, for once, entirely out of place without his armor and leaning against fine soft marble.

"I'm hurt," Allen replies.

"Why? You never make the trip all the way out to see the manor unless you have need of my ship or you have need of my ear. Since I doubt the princess is going to allow her country's champion free leash to run cross country at the moment with such an impending threat as Norte in our neighboring Egzardia, I surmise there's something on your mind."

"And you are right, as usual." Gaddes gives a shout and one of his servants comes to take the fine brocaded and embroidered jacket from Allen's shoulders as he shrugs it off and loosens the cravat around his neck in comfort.

"I'll have wine poured on the lower balcony, and then you can unburden your mind to me."

* * *

"Princess Eries proposes a treaty between Fanelia and Asturia, one to be made during the war, and strengthened through trade thereafter," Peralis announces as Hitomi presides over the meeting with the other advisors.

"And what says Dryden on this matter, since after the war he will still be king, and Eries a sister in a distant convent once more?" Brett asks.

"The seal of both the king and the princess is on the letter," Hitomi says in a gentle but firm voice. "They are in accord on this matter. I am of a mind to accept, tenuously, this treaty. It will do good for us to be on the same side as Asturia. The Astons are rarely completely out maneuvered when it comes to such things as war, and the smart countries, I am sure, are aligning themselves with Eries. I ask your response."

"It is an offer unlikely to come by again," the foreign minister, Gabriel, pronounces.

"Or a long time in coming," Brett replies. "It is, however, a splendid gesture of faith in your majesty's abilities, with the King-"

A stern glance from Peralis silences him instantly on that comment.

* * *

Gaddes had known about the betrothal, or had figured it out when the Princess departed for Tuloom Convent after her sister's announcement of her pregnancy. He had chosen, as had Eries, to remain silent on that score. Like Allen, he had always held a certain ungrudging respect for the more introverted princess. He was fairly certain this conversation would be about that, but was curious to let Allen bring it up first.

"So what is it that's troubling you, Allen?" he asks, leaning back on the balcony furniture. "It must be unbearable in the palace if you've run from it."

Brushing a hand through his hair as he tries to find the proper words, Allen finally says, "Eries." If his eyes had been lifted to his friend, he would have seen the knowing look in Gaddes' eyes, but they are not, and so all he sees is the back of his eyelids as he continues. "She is a puzzle to me…at once so understanding, and so cold."

"Oh?" Gaddes replies, a faint smile belying his superior knowledge of the situation. "How so?"

"She speaks to me as though there is something that she knows, and has known, for a long time, but will not say it. Instead, she rebuffs my questions and leaves me with no answers."

"I'm usually the last person you come to for advice about women, Allen," Gaddes replies. "Wouldn't Celena have been a better choice? She is the Princess' handmaiden, after all."

Discarding his gloves as he lifts his wine glass, Allen rubs his temples. "She appears to be remembering her time as Dilandu."

Gaddes swallows the sudden lump in his throat. He and Allen had spent hours upon hours discussing what should be done about his sister's part in the war, when Dryden and Millerna had deferred to him for judgment in her case. In the end, he had accepted the responsibility himself, and her care, as he would've if things had played out more normally with the two siblings.

He had received his promotion following that decision.

It had been their policy to reward in the proper manner those that served well, and not to punish crimes that could not be undone. Especially after so many had done so much wrong.

"I cannot ask her about what the Princess says to her, because Eries, I am almost certain, feels the way that I do about her at the moment. Eries is less likely to unburden her mind to Celena than she is to me."

"Have you no idea what might be causing this sort of a reaction from the princess?"

* * *

The three of them traveled to the edge of Asgardia before loosing the two horses. Tristan has Skan and Arik stand close together before he spreads his arms and tilts his head back, calling upon the spells required to transport them to Ispano.

He only hopes that they do not arrive at the worst possible place and time.

The moment the blinding light fades, Arik pulls the two of them quickly back against the wall they have come to rest near, and none of the three of them speak. Tristan's aim had been almost right on track, and he has set them down, waiting, breathlessly to see if they have been discovered. Their backs are to the royal residence, where the traitors have made their foothold apparent.

Across an open, guarded square is the Temple of Asgard, their destination.

_ "What is going on?"_ Skan asks in the barest whisper.

In response, Arik points, meaningfully, at the temple.

Thankfully, no one has seen their arrival, despite the spectacle that it appears to have been for the three of them. Tristan, breathless, rests his back against his former home, and waits for Arik's decision. "We will split up," she says to Tristan in a soft voice, "Skan and I will make a break towards the palace, drawing the troops guarding the temple, and you will move across to the temple without causing attention to be called to yourself. Wait for us in the Priestess' chamber of devotion."

"Arik," he starts, but she lifts a finger to his lips, leaning up slightly to give him a kiss that stops his words, and, as alarming as it is to him, his breath.

"Do as I say, Tristan," she says, pushing him back from her and turning to relay her plan to Skan, who nods in a grim manner and draws the blade at his waist. When she leaps forward from their position, booted feet swift on the blood-marred flagstones of the square, he is right behind her.

Breathing hard, Tristan takes a long moment to try and fathom his response to Arik's method of silencing him, and then, as he hears the large rush of soldiers moving after them, he turns to survey the square between him and the temple. There are two soldiers remaining, but their attention follows their comrades.

Lifting one of the cracked rocks from the flagstones, one with a deep gash from a staff or a sword, Tristan throws it far from him, so that it lands on the far side of the temple gates.

* * *

"No logical one has presented itself."

"Because you've never had a problem with an Aston woman before?" Gaddes asks with a hint of sarcasm and condescension in his voice. "Or because you aren't thinking of every possible reason?"

"I would not be here if I knew the answer to those questions, Gaddes," the blond knight says, frowning. "And you're starting to sound just like Eries does about the whole situation."

"What was it she said to you, exactly, Allen?"

"That it was not her place to inform me of what was wrong between us."

"She is as proud a woman as you are a warrior," Gaddes says in a soft voice, sipping his wine and leaning back, "can't you guess? It didn't take me as long to figure it out, and it came to mind years ago for me." He pauses, and when Allen doesn't respond, he sighs before prompting, "Old Aston was very high and mighty when it came to his honor, and that of his family. He maintained that a monarchy ought to be honorable to its ties, even if those ties were less than so… any deal he made, he did his best to follow through on. Of his three daughters, we both know it was Eries who took most after him."

Allen stares at Gaddes for a long moment, and then blinks wide blue eyes at him. "You aren't serious."

"She wouldn't ever have told you something it was not her duty to tell you, Allen."

"But why didn't anyone… Jichia's name, Gaddes, it's been seventeen years!"

"Arrangements like that aren't the sort you spread around. And even you mentioned that she was brought to visit your home when you were a child. Even after your father disappeared." He taps his finger against the stem of his wine glass, "And she was the one who was put in possession of your family's estate and your mother's possessions when you ran from the city. Did none of this ever occur to you before, Allen? Truly?"

"Never," Allen replies, firmly.

* * *

With tense muscles and baited breath, Tristan waits, hidden in the devotion chamber he had spent so much time playing in as a child. It had been here that his mother had taken him to hide when there had been a small uprising among the workers, before she had been made priestess and the people were chafing under the rule of the regent in charge of the nation.

It was here, also, that had the best means of escape.

Arik knew that, when she sent him.

Hours have passed, he feels, and he begins to lose hope of the safety of Arik and Skan, and the successfulness of the ploy when the door opens, swift and silent, and two figures enter before it closes on almost total darkness. "Tristan," Arik says in a breathless voice, cursing herself and her failings.

Skan, standing tall and proud beside her, nonetheless holds his left arm where a deep gash has been made by the enemy soldiers.

Not quite trusting her, he pauses.

"You're here, Skan knows it. The bracelet you wear told us you had made it safely. Come out."

"Only if you promise to never do something so foolish again," Tristan snaps, moving from his hiding place swiftly to stride across the room, grasping her arms and shaking her. "He is hurt!" he exclaims, turning pale eyes on the Draconian that had accompanied his Kathis.

"I will do what is needful," Arik murmurs, stepping over to finally inspect Skan's wound, which she binds with a piece of cloth that Tristan hands her, a silk blindfold his mother had once used in a ceremony.

Between the two men, a meaningful look is passed, and a truce is made.

* * *

"The question now, is what are you going to do about it?"


	10. Knowledge and Notions

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Knowledge and Notions [Part Ten]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

"You cannot, in conscience, leave the Duke at this time, if you are truly a Kathis."

Standing, fully dressed and in the presence of Hathei and Umal, Fariah narrows her gray eyes. "Is it safer for me to leave him to your care, or for me to take him with me when I journey to Pallas? It will be overland and many days travel. The mountains are not easy to cross on foot, or on horseback."

The two brothers glance uneasily at one another, and start to speak when Chid himself raises his voice. "It is neither of their decisions, though, is it, Fariah?"

"No, my Duke," she says, bowing to her charge, "it is not."

"You said this involved my aunt."

"It does. I have been chosen to pass along the manner of her imprisonment in Norte to your Uncle and Princess Eries."

"Why did they not just send this news straight to Palas themselves?"

"There is no Kathis in Asturia, and the Consortium does not trust others to carry such news. It is not the manner of the Consortium to use couriers they would not allow to fulfill other duties."

"Then there must be someone inside the order they would be willing to send," Hathei protests.

Fariah stands from her bow and levels her gaze at Hathei, gray eyes meeting brown. "It would behoove you not to be so frightened of your own ineptitude that you feel the need to have someone to blame Chid's death on. It will take me a week to make the journey alone, if you cannot protect him for seven days, then there is nothing I can do."

Umal starts to retort in support of his brother, but a sharp word from Chid cuts him off. "You have ten," he says, blue eyes watching her closely, her dark red hair falling over her face as she bows to him once more and leaves the audience chamber.

"What you think of her," Chid says with an angry frown on his face, "is immaterial. She has done nothing but prove herself capable in doing the job she was appointed for."

Voris' two sons glance between themselves again, "But my Duke," Umal begins.

"Gaea is at war," the blond Duke announces loudly, "and we can use all the protection we can get. Do not begrudge her the training she was given simply because it was not yours."

* * *

After reviewing the situation in the Zari, Nileyah orders that the entrances all be guarded. When Kira starts to protest, she replies simply, "It was this unguardedness and openness with us that lead to the kidnapper succeeding in Palas, as well as the relaxed nature that took the Norte army straight through Egzardia."

Cowed, the now quite pregnant princess sits back and watches from her chair in the corner of the strategy room, both Jasper and Emman in meeting with townspeople about defending the civilian quarter. The two reigning monarchs had considered Nileyah more than equal of the task of reinforcing the castle's defenses. And that there would be no safer place for Kira than at the side of a working Kathis.

"For what it is worth," Kira says, speaking up, "I am sorry."

Back stiffening, Nileyah closes her eyes as she looks over the map of the palace, "For what?"

"You love Jasper."

"It is my duty to protect him."

"If that were all it is, you would not have volunteered to do his wishes so readily and rescue me, in Palas. It is not something you had to do."

"What do you know of Kathis, my lady?"

"Little, I must profess."

"Whatever romantic notions there are in your head about the service I perform, I and my sister-cousins and brother-cousins," she says in a gentle voice, "you are mistaken."

"Romantic notions?" she adjusts herself on the padded chair, drawing the embroidered blanket that had been given her by Emman around her shoulders and taking comfort in its warmth against the encroaching winter. "I-"

"We are not allowed to love our charges," Nileyah says in a soft voice. "Because if you love something, while you may sacrifice everything for it, you also sacrifice everything to it. And, as I speak from the knowledge of one of my number who dared so boldly to truly love her charge, I tell you that it makes one of our duties impossible."

"One of your duties?"

"Were I your Kathis, my lady, I would be a man."

"I still do not understand, Nileyah."

"Nil," she corrects instantly. "There should be no formality of that manner if I am truly going to protect you, and the heir. The duty I speak of is one that you have performed for me, or will, with the birth of your child."

"But… but that's…"

"It has kept many a country's royal line from extinction in times of war, my lady, and it likely will again."

"You truly would've become Queen…" Kira murmurs, breathless in her confusion. "Why…"

"No Kathis has ever sought a throne. A Kathis does not wed their charge either, my lady," comes the gentle, tender response. "And if, once the danger has passed, their charge finds a true bride, or groom, then the Kathis' child is sent to foster back with the Consortium, and the Kathis is reassigned."

"That's so… cruel."

"The world is cruel, my lady, what cruelties are done in it pale in comparison."

* * *

The messenger from Palas stands waiting the word of the queen, but for several days, it does not come. Overwhelmed by a lost crop in the southern part of the country, Hitomi had, against the better judgment of Merle and Peralis, decided to ride down to inspect the damage, along with a large contingent of the royal guard and Merle herself.

The cat woman, seated tall in her saddle with her pink hair drawn back in a braid that hangs behind her and brushes the hilt of her sword, looks about warily as they come upon the fields that had been burned out, and the village that went along with them.

The ride has taken three days, and though her eyes have been watching Hitomi closely, Merle is unable to see any signs of undue fatigue in her queen, and silently admits that Hitomi is bearing the early part of her pregnancy well. The villagers are heartened to see their queen, riding as tall in the saddle as she can manage, despite her less than imposing height, and turn out of their burnt thatched houses to greet her in soot-stained praise.

"Ghellan," Hitomi calls to the captain of the guard, who rides up to pull his horse beside Hitomi and Merle's horses. "I want relief sent to this village. Food, supplies. Winter is coming, and I will not have the people starve because of a misfortune."

"Yes, your Highness."

"And investigate who might have done this."

Merle nods in agreement with her assessment of the needs of the people, in this case, and starts to turn her horse when Hitomi dismounts and steps over to greet one of the peasants that looks to be the village elder. Cursing silently, Merle moves her horse in counter of the monarch woman.

"Hitomi," she hisses as the new queen listens to the man's grievances on behalf of his village with a kind ear. "Get back on your horse."

But she does not listen to her husband's friend and Kathis, and instead she hears out the village leader, and then bows respectfully to him, relating the manner of her response in the form of food and supplies to fix enough of the burnt out houses to hold the villagers until they can repair things themselves.

Then, and only then, after much thanks from the village leader, does she remount her horse, and glance sharply at Merle. "Gaea is at war, yes," she says as they turn to make their way to the prior evening's lodgings, "but Fanelia's borders have held, and with the addition of the Egzardian military, will hold for some time longer. If I am not safe to set foot on the ground where my horse may tread, in my own country, then I am not safe on my horse either."

Starting to protest, Merle is reminded, greatly, of Van's response to her careful chiding, and so she shakes her head, motioning for Hitomi to lead the bulk of the guard from the city. A chill runs down her spine as she thinks of how she had reason to increase her warnings with Van, and to convince Peralis to double the royal guard.

* * *

Stalking the length of one of the courtyard gardens, Allen's mind is heavy, and he can think of little else than what he had learned from Gaddes. He has wanted to speak to Eries about the manner of his newfound suspicions, but, as though somehow alerted to his glimmered knowledge, she has avoided him entirely, ensconced in her audiences with the advisors and delegations.

And then a slip of a girl steps into his path.

"Get out of my way," he snaps before he gets a good look at her. And then his mind runs backwards, towards the anniversary celebration, and he looks at her again. The same haunting, clouded eyes stare at him, but under the wrong color of hair. There is something familiar about her, "You look like…" he trails off, narrowing his blue eyes. He is uncertain. " Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Many people that seem the same are not," the girl cautions, "I come from Freid, and I bear a message that your monarchs bear hearing."

"What news can possibly come from Freid?" Allen asks, though his blood runs cold at the thought of Chid in danger. His only son…

"Please do not be so fearful, Knight Caeli, your son," the girl smiles a little, "is safe, and I have seen him so, and charged his own men to do my duty while I do this task as I have been bid."

"Who are you?" Allen snaps, patience worn thin. It is the second time in as many weeks that someone has mentioned things he thought kept in secret from most people. He has half a mind to ask her what she knows of his relation to the Freidian Duke, but holds his tongue instead.

"Fariah Draven, Sir Schezar, Chid zar Freid aeil Kathis."

"And what could you have to tell Eries and Dryden that I could not tell for you?"

"Little, since it will inevitably have to do with you, however those ears must be in attendance before I unclasp my message to you."

"Fine," Allen replies, both for the sake of nursing his pride and because it will be a chance to see Eries again, "I will get you in to see them, but you will tell me how you got into the palace without alerting the guards, and I will want proof of your identity."

"Then show me your blade," a new voice says, one coming from the edge of the courtyard.

Both Allen and Fariah turn to look at the new speaker, and Celena steps into the afternoon sunlight from the shade of the corridor. She wears leather pants and a button down shirt. "My lady?" Fariah asks.

"Celena," Allen starts to protest, but is cut off.

"We know what I am, brother." Celena turns intelligent blue eyes on her sibling and holds out her hand. "And, it appears, you have learned something of yourself as well." She stares him down, "I will need a weapon."

With a frustrated sigh, Allen hands his sword to his sister, and Fariah, blinking gray eyes, turns her gaze at the knight. "You aren't serious?" she asks, but the look on his face as he folds his arms on his chest and steps back tells her in no uncertain terms that he is.

Allen's mind races, as the two women bow in a stiffly formal manner, and Celena moves forward to strike at Fariah, an easily deflected blow. The clash of their swords echoes in the courtyard and the sunlight flashes on the edges of the sharp blades. As he watches, he notices that Fariah's is much shorter than his long sword, but that her reach with it is superior to Celena's. The two seem, however, evenly matched as the spar continues.

"Enough of this test," Fariah spits out, disarming Celena with an intricate twist of her wrist that she learned while watching Chid practice. One that Allen had never thought to show his sister, but had learned himself in the ancient holy land. The sword arches high in the air and she catches it by the hilt, offering it back to Allen. "I _am_ Kathis. You have given your sword against mine as proof, sir knight," she says in an annoyed tone. "I will see the princess."

"Yes, you will."

The three of them turn their eyes up to the source of the second new voice, and Allen is shocked to find Eries there, watching them all with disapproving eyes. Her gaze does not linger on him, but goes to rest on Celena before finally settling on Fariah. "Come up to the balcony," the princess says, "I would like very much to speak with you."

"Princess Eries," Celena and Allen begin at the same time, but she silences them like errant children with a sharp glance.

"I will speak with the two of you once I have concluded this business. If Chid's Kathis has come, it means that he is vulnerable in Freid to attack, and my nephew has written that there have been several recently. Is this true?"

"Yes, Princess," Fariah replies, bowing her head. Allen retrieves his sword from her and she heads up to the balcony, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway with Eries.

He turns his eyes on his sister. "What do you think I have learned?" he asks her in a probing voice.

"Why the Princess wears our mother's locket," Celena replies, reaching out to take her brother's arm. "I am restless, Allen. I cannot bear this idle tedium any longer."

"Celena-"

"It is true then, isn't it?" she asks in a soft voice. "The dreams I have been having, when I passed out at the anniversary? I was… that monster… wasn't I?"

* * *

"What news of my nephew's country?"

"You believe I am who I say I am so readily?"

"Allen did."

"Allen is distracted."

"Yes." Eries continues to walk, her veiled face pristine in the mid-morning sunlight filtering into the covered walkway above the courtyard. "But I am not so distracted as to think you would not have brought some proof of your identity other than your skills with the sword."

"And you would be correct, Princess." Fariah reaches into her thick outer vest and pulls a letter with the Freidian seal on it, offering it to Eries.

The pale haired princess reads over the contents and nods once, dismissing the matter and offering the paper back to Fariah, who takes it and tucks it securely away. She nods for the Kathis girl to continue. "It is not Chid that is endangered, Princess. I bear word of the location of your sister."

"Millerna?" Eries asks, voice hopeful and yet untrusting. "How did you come by this knowledge?"

Taking a deep breath and calming herself, Fariah sets her shoulders and begins. She knows she has not the tact or the mastery of language that Jujiin or Selassie would use to relate what knowledge she has been given, but she is a master of her own knowledge, and good at being persuasive, when need be.

She had won the argument that got her the time to make the trip to Palas, after all.

"The Consortium sent word to me, our Lady of Strategy sent a spy to Norte who came back with the news of her whereabouts, and another of our number was imprisoned with her. It is with regret that we make you known it was partly the work of a doppelganger that brought the letter bearing Millerna's hair to you."

Narrowing her eyes as they turn their footsteps inwards towards the library, Eries takes a long time in replying. "It is times like this when I wonder at the good of such an organization. It must also, then, have been part work of another doppelganger that impersonated her so well before the subjects. And likely the same one who kidnapped her."

"What has happened within our own ranks, princess, I cannot gainsay. It is not my place to know such things, as I would have been absent or training until I was sent to Freid, a journey which I began long before your sister's celebration."

"Why doesn't your Consortium take care of what has happened to Millerna?" comes the stiff reply. "Since you so freely take responsibility for it."

"We have not taken responsibility, Princess, simply accepted the circumstances as they are. That members of our calling were involved has since been made clear to us. But it was your late father who rejected the guardian that was sent for Queen Millerna when she took the throne during the last war, claiming that the Knights Caeli were enough to protect her in Palas. What has gone badly in the past goes the same in the present."

The doors to the library are opened before them.

"And we are a group of fierce bodyguards in lesser numbers than you would think. Our calling is to protect, not to wage a war."

"In the past," Dryden speaks up, taking measure of the two women, and the sword at the younger woman's hip, "it has been that your type of bodyguard accompanied their charge onto the battlefield."

Bowing to the Asturian king, Fariah lifts her gray eyes to his. "Times have changed, your majesty. In the past, battles were waged in man to man combat, where we could do some good. Now men bury their bodies in guymelefs and fight with other arms that are not so easy to defend against. It is how my predecessors in Freid have found their most recent demises."


	11. Distant Chances

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Distant Chances [Part Eleven]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

Finding Van had been relatively easy. Between the two of them, and there were a few guards, Skan and Arik had dispatched them without calling out an alarm to their presence. And with Tristan leading the way, they come across where Van is wandering, fascinated with the markings on the wall, in little time.

"Van!" Tristan calls in a hushed whisper as the three of them move towards him quickly and back him away from his exposed position in front of the markings.

"Tristan? So I made it to Ispano, did I?" Van contemplates that for a long moment, frowning. He had thought he was in Asgardia, or perhaps in one of the temples hidden deep within Freid. In the Great War he had seen things in Freid he had never known to be buried there, and Van had little doubt that country held more secrets than he was privy to.

"We must leave," Arik warns, glancing nervously at the door. Tristan nods, and Skan backs towards it to listen for more guards.

"These markings," Van replies, disregarding their caution and turning to point at the mosaic on the wall of the chamber. "They tell something of Atlantis."

"Yes, yes," Arik says, turning to glance at the corridors in nervous anxiety. She had fled from this very chamber with Tristan when they had arrived in Fanelia months ago.

"I know what they tell. This is my mother's temple, after all. Ispano was the gateway that the Draconians used to cross from earth," Tristan says, much calmer. Skan straightens and turns his head, speaking to Arik quickly before turning and heading off down the hall.

"Ask Tristan for that story once we've gotten you home to Fanelia, your highness," Arik says nervously.

"Yes," Van says, turning his somber crimson eyes on her. That had been what he needed to be reminded of. His thoughts turned to his home and… Hitomi… "I need to get home… I was taken during a battle…"

"At your wedding," Tristan replies, nodding once. "I have not heard word that Fanelia has fallen. Hitomi has done well by you."

A proud smile creeps it's way across Van's features and he nods once, "She would." Skan returns, and motions for them to leave quickly, glancing meaningfully behind him towards the exit.

Arik puts a hand on Van's arm and a finger to his lips, leading him towards the wall and where Tristan has depressed a corner of the mosaic with his hand, which opens a passage in the wall.

"Come, we will make our way upwards, and get to the stone. I can send you to Fanelia from there."

* * *

"It's barbaric!" Kira shouts at Jasper when they are alone in their chamber after dinner. "And you knew about this? And you did nothing? How could you!"

"Kira, you do not understand. I did not know until…"

"But you know now!"

Catching his livid wife by the upper arms, Jasper pulls her against him sternly, clapping one hand over her mouth with a dangerous slant of his green eyes. "Yes, I found out about that. But only just before the anniversary celebration in Palas. I have known Nileyah since I was ten, and she had this knowledge since she was much younger than that." He paused, searching Kira's eyes, "No, it is not fair. But it is something that cannot be changed by either you or I. No matter how much we might wish it."

Kira narrows violet eyes at her husband and he slowly lowers his hand from her mouth. "And all that has happened to her because of this wishing? Do you even know where she was while she was away?"

"He knows," Nileyah says, speaking up from her place in the shadows. "And I hope you will pardon my intrusion, my lady. But you berate your lord too sternly."

Stuttering, Kira closes her mouth, nearly biting her tongue on her next words.

"It is nothing I would expect you to properly understand, without some further explanation on my part, I am only sorry to you, Jasper," and as she says his name, the tall prince knows just how much she has endured beyond the pain of imprisonment, "that I did not break with her more seriously about this before it came to such a head."

"Nil…"

She lifts her hand to stay his voice. "Let us all make ourselves comfortable, and I will explain to your wife the state of things, in the way that I once explained them to you, Jasper."

* * *

Leaving the library after a lengthy conversation with both Fariah and Dryden, Eries seeks a little solitude. She heads out of the enclosed room and makes her way towards the balcony on the roof. The conversation had turned to Millerna's welfare, as it was bound to. In her mind, she knows things will come down to a small, surgical strike on the mountain country.

One that she will send Allen to lead.

But she does not like to think of such things.

Sitting down heavily on the stone ledge as the sun goes down, Eries leans her head back, and slips the veil from her face. The breeze from the sea seems to comfort her, and she dozes lightly, only to be awoken from it by a chiding voice.

"It isn't safe for you to sleep up here, princess," Allen says.

She opens her blue eyes and turns to look at him, standing at attention just a few feet from her, eyes trained on the horizon of the sea instead of looking at her. "It seems that it isn't safe for me to do anything, then," she replies, making no move to adjust her position, simply too worn down to react.

There is silence for a long moment as the first stars peek out of the darkening sky overhead. And then Allen breaks it. "I have wronged you."

Breath catching in her throat, Eries turns startled eyes on the night, heart speeding up in her chest. "I… I do not know what you are talking about," she stammers.

"You know full well what I am referring to," Allen says, tightening his jaw.

Letting out her held breath in a heavy sigh, Eries lowers her head, replacing her veil. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not. It does not change things, either," she says, finally moving to get up with a heavy sigh. "You are still you, and I am still me."

"Doesn't it?" Allen asks, turning to look at her. He licks his lips, lips that have suddenly gone dry. He finds his throat shares that feeling. Taking a deep breath, he continues, "Princess… we are engaged."

Lifting her hands to her face, Eries shakes her head. "We were betrothed at a very young age, Allen, before we could make decisions for ourselves. There is a difference," she says, trying to deny it. "It has never held any sway over your actions, and-"

"But it has held sway over yours," he interrupts. "And in my own defense, Princess, I never knew about the betrothal."

There is silence for a long moment, and Eries is thankful for the dim light of the evening, and her veil as she lowers her hands from her face. Hopefully, Allen will not see the tears threatening in her eyes. "And now that you do?" she asks in a much shakier voice than she cares to own is hers. "Now what? You have had the eldest sister, and given her a child, and you owned the heart of the youngest of us since she was a girl. What good is the leftover one of us to you?"

Kneeling, Allen puts a hand over hers where it rests in her lap. "Princess, it is not how you think it is."

"Then you were using Millerna because she reminded you of Celena?" The moment the words have left her lips, she regrets them, but instead of getting angry, Allen tightens his grip on her hand.

"Millerna used me as much as I ever may have used her, Princess."

"You cared for her, once," Eries replies, unwilling to unearth the pain that had lived between her and Marlene over Allen for so long. "Didn't you?"

"It is a hard thing to remember, when you have changed so much as I have," he replies. "Is there nothing to be done about-?"

"Princess," a new voice calls from the staircase.

The two of them turn to look and see Celena standing, as though she has been waiting to be noticed for quite some time. Allen swallows as he meets his sister's eyes, but sees no malice, and no trace of the unbalanced nature that memories of her internment as Dilandu bring to her mind.

"Yes, Celena?" Eries asks.

"The advisors wish to meet with you and Allen about retrieving the queen."

* * *

Seated in the high backed chair, the High Bikathian Council Member Ilraine Seraph closes her silver eyes and lets the warmth of the fire greet her face before she speaks. The Bikathian Council, seated around her, wait patiently for their elected leader, and the eldest among them, to speak up.

"Asturia will send troops into Norte to seek out their queen," she says, eyes remaining closed as she inhales the scent of the incense thrown onto the fire, "but they will be repulsed by Ouran's forces, and those that return to their homeland will be few, and not well."

"What-" Selassie begins to speak up, but Jujiin motions her to silence as the High Bikathian continues to speak.

"It will take a great sacrifice from one of our own to free the Aston Queen from her stony prison. One of…" she trails of, swallowing the last of her words in her slightly wrinkled throat. 'Mine,' she finishes, in her mind, bowing her head before opening her eyes and lifting them to meet those of the council surrounding her.

"What action do we take? Do we deter the group that Asturia will send after their monarch?" a wizened older man asks, his steel gray beard and brows nearly obscuring his strong face and pale eyes.

"No," Selassie speaks up, glancing sharply at the others, well aware of her earlier misstep at interrupting. "If this is what the High One has seen, then it must come to pass. If Norte is not made aware of Asturia's knowledge and intent now, then in the future they will continue to ward off everyone, and not specialize. If they are put on their guard against Asturia…" she leaves the end of her sentence open for interpretation.

Jujiin nods, and Mot, grudgingly, follows suit.

The other council members glance at one another, and seek Ilraine's approval.

In response, the white haired woman simply nods her head.

Inaction, in itself, is a choice of action.

* * *

Reaching the top platform of the temple was easy. There were few guards in the halls of the temple, being afraid that the spirits were haunting it, and those that remained were easily taken care of by Skan and Arik. Van had seemed, since being pried away from the wall he had been inspecting, entirely focused on getting back to Gaea, and Fanelia.

Privately, Arik envies him the company he will be returning to, and the happiness he will find there. She crouches near a tall white pillar at the corner of the open top platform of the temple, watching for any of the guards to approach the stairs. Opposite her, Skan does the same, leaving Van to stand waiting on Tristan.

The only one of them without Draconian blood in his veins, the Ispano High Priest stands before the tall central altar and raises his hands to the large opening in the center of the temple. "How long will this take you?" Van asks in a hushed voice.

The large pillars were designed, in part, to amplify sound for the rituals performed at the temple, and so they all endeavor to remain as quiet as possible, lest the invaders hear the noise they are making and think to check up the long steps. Tristan, however, does not respond, instead concentrating all of his thoughts on manipulating the large energist built into the masonry of the top platform.

It takes a long moment for him to focus enough energy into it, and his heart grows sad at the thought of how sparse his people must be spread for their energy to be so weak. As he turns his eyes towards Van, Tristan finds he cannot entirely block out the ruins of his homeland. The buildings with their roofs falling in, scorch marks on the walls, and the heartless rendering of the invaders' will upon the people.

He cannot handle the thought of them being exploited any longer, or his own distance from it all. "I can send you home now, Van," he replies, blinking back the wetness of the tears collecting in his eyes, "But I cannot go with you."

"Tristan, what are you talking about?" Van asks, narrowing his crimson eyes.

"You are a king," Tristan says, closing his pale blue eyes. "You of all people should understand what I am going to do. Take Arik with you, please, and Skan…" he turns his eyes towards her, "I will be remaining here to save my people."

Turning her head, Arik frowns. She rises and stalks towards Tristan, grabbing him by the arm. "I've failed you too much already, Tristan, I won't leave you behind now to have you do this and die," she shakes him.

Lifting a hand to her cheek with a sad smile, Tristan shakes his head. "You have done more than anyone ever could have been required of you, Arik. You left your family behind to protect me, and you gave all there was for you to give… but Ispano isn't your home."

When she starts to protest, Skan steps forward and motions them all to silence. _"I will be staying,"_ he says, looking intently at Arik. _"They are advancing up the stairs."_

_"It is not your home either,"_ Arik snaps, drawing her sword and moving to defend him, but Skan grabs her by the wrist and shoves her at Van, who catches her, looping an arm around her chest. She struggles, but he holds her tightly against him.

_"He will need someone to protect him. And he loves you. He does not wish to see you hurt any longer,"_ Skan says, shoving her towards Van. _"Go with the Fanelian king. He cannot send me since I came of my own free will, where you were bidden to him. And the child should be born."_

Widening her eyes, Arik protests, "I do not like this!" still struggling, but Van, with an understanding nod, holds her tightly by the shoulders.

"If you think that is best," the Fanelian king replies, knowing the look in Tristan's eyes as the one he had held when letting go of Hitomi once, long ago, "I wish you nothing more than to free your people."

"I would rather you took care of your own, and your wife, than to lend me your well wishes. The two of us will be enough."

"Tristan, don't do this," Arik urges, fighting harder against Van as she sees him lift his hands to finish the gathering and send them to Gaea. "I don't want you to get hurt!"

But whatever response Tristan had for her is lost as a pink pillar of light descends through the opening in the temple, and she and Van are swept upwards in it towards the sky. In its wake, there is a resounding silence, broken by the rush of booted footsteps up the stairs on the northern face of the temple.

Skan, without delay, spreads his wings and grabs Tristan by the arm, dragging him to the south face of the temple and pulling the two of them down and out of sight, rushing towards the nearby residential section. The High Priest's eyesight is blurry, and he forces himself to stumble along after the Draconian man, ignoring the stinging in his eyes and the stabbing ache in his heart.

'At least she'll have a chance on Gaea,' he thinks to himself as Skan forces him to press his back against one of the burnt out walls of a small cottage home. 'She would have perished here.'

* * *

Standing on the highest balcony in the center building of the castle complex, Hitomi watches as the sun sinks below the horizon, and the light begins to fade into darkness. It has been her recent pastime to watch the sunrise, since she has been unable to sleep soundly through the night, and also the sunset, closing each day the way she has opened it.

In the passing months she has begun to get a little rounder about her middle, and much more solemn in her demeanor, the weight of her decisions overshadowing the joy at her pregnancy and the responsibility of her upcoming child.

Merle hovers worriedly at her shoulder.

"You think I am doing too much."

"You are pregnant, Hitomi."

"Only a few months."

"Four months, at least," Merle replies. "If you knew anything about having children, you'd know that you should be taking it easy. Resting more. Eating more."

In a quiet, severe voice, Hitomi asks, "And what of the people, Merle? What of Fanelia in a Gaea at war? Should I leave the considerations of that to the advisors, and the other countries?"

The tall cat woman starts to speak, but Hitomi gasps, and leans over the balcony in a quick movement, and she dives forward to grab the collar of the queen's gown, in case she had decided, for some unknown reason, to jump.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"That light?" Hitomi says, excitedly, wrenching carefully free of the other woman's claws to race towards the stairs of the building. What she had seen was unmistakable, to her. The column of light is something she has experienced more than she observed, but it looked exactly like the one that had taken Van from her.

And in her mind, seeing one again can only mean one thing.

That he has returned.

"Saddle my horse," she calls as she makes her way into the stables, rousing the dozing attendant in her urgency. He snaps to his feet and stumbles off about his bidding just as Merle catches up with Hitomi.

"You're being irrational. And you're seeing things."

"I am doing neither, Merle," Hitomi replies, moving to find a pair of riding gloves on the wall that entirely dwarf her hands, but make her think fondly of her husband with the small silver buckles around the straps on the wrists.

"At least take some of the guardsmen with you," Merle asks anxiously.

"There's no time," Hitomi replies, eager to see Van again. "Go saddle your horse as well, you can come along, if you think it's so dangerous."

"Hitomi," Merle replies, "please don't ask me to do this."

"I'm going, Merle, whether you come with me or not. Van's back on Gaea, he's come home, and I _will_ be there to welcome him."

"I advise against it, your majesty," Peralis said, the captain of the guard at his shoulder. "That could be hundreds of miles away from here, and you would not be any wiser, riding off to danger. And given the circumstances, I do not feel it would be wise. I agree with Merle, in this instance."

"And I agree with neither of you. Van is out there somewhere. I know it. Let me go to him."

"Hitomi, we cannot."


	12. Tough Luck

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Tough Luck [Part Twelve]  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

Seated around the table with the advisors, Eries looks tired. She had been up late the prior evening, because after returning to her own chambers, she had not been able to sleep. "This news changes nothing of our position in regards to Norte," one advisor was saying. "There is no reason to believe the girl."

The other advisors nod.

"If there's even the slightest chance at getting Millerna back we must do something," Dryden says. He straightens in his chair. "I believe her."

"Yours is not the only voice that we must hear a decision from, my king," the advisor says. "Princess Eries, you have been rather quiet today. What do you think of what the girl who claims to be a Kathis has said to us?"

"The girl is a Kathis," Dryden protests, some fire behind his voice.

"I stand corrected," the advisor says, bowing his head. "Princess?"

Eries lifts her face from her folded hands and straightens her back. "I agree with _King_ Dryden," she says, being sure to accentuate her pronunciation of the word king to remind the advisors. "Fariah is a Kathis, by my nephew's own hand. He has sent word with her that she is who she claims to be."

The advisor coughs, looking a little put out at being so openly brought to fault.

"And I believe that the best course of action in regards to this new information will be to send men to recover the Queen."

Around the table, the advisors shift uncomfortably. "Princess, there is little reason to believe they will be successful, what good does it do us to send people who will fail?"

"I do not think that they will fail," Eries says, glancing sharply at the speaker. "Especially if Allen Schezar is in command of them."

"You have much faith in someone who has proved himself to be little better than a defiant Sea Guardian."

"You forget yourselves," Eries says, straightening her shoulders and turning her eyes to meet Dryden's. "Allen Schezar is the country's, and the Queen's, champion. If he cannot rescue her, then perhaps no one in Asturia can."

Silence greets her response.

"Sir Schezar will lead the attack. He is allowed whatever preparations he requires, and he will leave as soon as it is prudent. There will be no more discussion of this." She pauses to meet each pair of eyes, and all the heads bow at her gaze. "Other news."

"Nothing, princess."

"Then the meeting will adjourn." Eries rises, and the men around the table do likewise. She crosses to Dryden's seat and he shakes off his lethargy in order to rise, and offers her his arm.

The two of them leave the chamber of advisors, and Fariah stands waiting for them, looking as on guard as the two taller men at the door, and because of her smaller size, much more dangerous.

"Word, my lady?" Fariah asks, following as Eries curtsies to Dryden and motions for her to come along.

"Allen himself will go to bring her back."

"Then my work is done, with your permission, I would return to Duke Chid."

"With all haste. Protect my nephew, and send him my well wishes."

Bowing deeply, Fariah turns and jogs back towards the stables. It will be a long trip to her new home, but not one that she dreads making. Asturia, seated by the sea, is beautiful, but she finds herself longing for the age and the mists of the mountains in Freid.

Eries steps out, alone, into the courtyard, and sits herself down at one of the fountains. It has been a long day, and she knows that Allen is not finished with his discussion of their betrothal. Glancing down into the water, she asks herself a silent question.

* * *

The brambles they land in are sharp, and cling to clothing. Arik does not seem to notice, however, and shoves Van away from her. "How could you!" she shouts. "He'll die!"

Fighting his way to his feet out of the brambles, Van rolls his eyes. "He has Skan to watch over him. And it was his choice to make." He glances up at the trees. "I have to get home, and he wanted you to come with me, and see that I made it there," Van says, turning to offer her a hand up. "Come."

"You hold no power over me."

"I am not trying to," Van says in a weary voice. "But I would like to return to my home. And my wife."

Stilling herself, Arik sobers at the memory of Hitomi, and her kindness. "Yes," she says, taking Van's hand and pulling herself out of the patch of brambles, "and you will." Without looking around, she draws her sword and points. "This way."

"How do you know that without knowing where we are?" Van asks, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Because it's up the mountain, and we can see where we are from there," Arik says, starting to make her way in the indicated direction, keeping her sword drawn.

Van chuckles, and follows after her.

"Besides, I owe Merle a favor or two, and protecting you should suffice."

* * *

Ouran paces in his chambers, with his generals waiting. He leads a meeting, but would rather be out among the troops than inside. Wars were times of action, in his mind, not times for meetings.

"The supplies we took when we overtook Egzardia are good stores that will last the entire army for another three months on the road."

"It was an entire country," Ouran snaps. "And we have three months worth of supplies? How is that possible?"

"When the army retreated from Norte, sire, they burned everything behind them as they went."

"And the people? What do the people live off of with everything burned to the ground?"

"I … don't know, sire."

The aide never saw the blow coming, kneeling with his head lowered and his eyes trained on the ground. Aden, standing in the corner, is expressionless. His face, pale in its tan complexion, is blank. The generals, however, are not so unmoved by their king's violence.

"My lord. You cannot continue to dispose of the people in this manner… there will be no one left to enjoy our victory," one of them speaks up with.

Aden smiles to himself. The generals do not know of Ouran's plans, and how little he cares for the people that Aden himself had come to love over his years of service to them for his queen. He could have departed the evil capital years ago, when the Queen had taken Ouran for her second husband, but he had not. It was both misguided, and forbidden love for the kind woman, and a promise he had made her, long ago, that he would help her people if whatever new husband she took survived her.

And then there was the collar, and the magic that was binding him.

But in Aden's mind, it meant little that he was thus constrained. The promise he had made was more important. Ouran had little idea that his supposedly trained and subdued guard dog was neither in regards to him.

"We march on Fanelia next," Ouran announces, stalking over to his map. "From there, Zaibach. From Zaibach we head south into Asturia, and from there Freid."

"You speak as though these things are simple, my lord. Taking over countries will not be so easy now that they are aware we are prepared to make war."

"They are cowed by the peace they have enjoyed," Ouran says in an even, dangerous voice, "they will disbelieve what they wish to. And no one on Gaea wishes for war. We are done here."

The generals salute, and leave the high walled room in uneasy silence.

Again, Aden asks himself why he does not kill the king.

He has the strength, despite his appearance, the will…

Perhaps, he thinks, red-rimmed brown eyes trained on the dark man, the magic in him is not as strong as that being used on him. It had happened in that manner when his sister had been thrown into the room with the Asturian queen, and he had barely been able to make her a way out.

The tattoos on the back of his hands burn a little as he chafes against the collar on his neck, but Ouran does not notice.

Soon, Aden contents himself to think. Nileyah had escaped, though wounded, and his sister had always been the stronger of the two of them. The braver.

Soon things will come to Norte to see to the king, and if they can free me, he thinks to himself, then I will do what I wanted to do the moment he entered the throne room all those years ago.

* * *

"We are in Freid," Arik says as they reach the top of the ridge, "near Godashim if I am not mistaken."

"Then we are in luck," Van says. "I know the Duke, he will see me home safely."

"There is a ways to go before that, your highness. It is several mountain ranges away. This is Freid afterall. You are from the land protected by dragons, Freid is a land protected by mountains."

"I am aware of that," Van says, starting down the other side of the ridge. "And if we are going to continue this journey, you will call me Van instead of your majesty. It's annoying."

"You are a king."

"But not your King. Or even your leader, as you so aptly put to me before."

It is Arik's turn to laugh. "You are right."

"Put your sword away, if you slip you will undoubtedly run yourself through. That's not good mountain climbing etiquette."

Arik does so, just as Van himself stumbles, taking a tumble down the mountainside. Spitting out a curse, Arik dives after him, catching him by the wrist before he falls off the edge of an abrupt drop off in the ridge. "You speak to me of falling?" she snaps, yanking him up and planting him on the uphill side of the tree she caught to gather him.

Dirty from the tumble and groaning, Van glares at Arik. "There was a root sticking out."

"Then watch your feet."

"I won't die from falling," he snaps back, rubbing his ankle before climbing to his feet. "I just haven't been outdoors like this in a while."

"Where were you before you showed up in Ispano, Van?"

"The Mystic Moon," he replies, shaking his head. "It felt like only a brief moment, a few days perhaps that I was there, but here…"

"From what I gather, you have been gone many months," Arik says, leaning against the tree. "There is war again, Van. Norte this time has decided that it would like to take over the countries around it."

"Then perhaps there will always be war," he says with a sigh, getting to his feet.

"Be careful," Arik snaps, putting a hand out to steady him.

"I will. I have much to live for. But nothing comes of nothing, we must keep moving, while there is light left in the sky."

* * *

Reading the orders sent to him, bearing the royal seal, Allen's vision turns red. "She's sending me away," he snaps.

"I don't think it means what you think it means, brother," Celena says, looking up from her contemplation of the fire in the hearth of their parents', and now their, home.

"So now you will speak about it to me?"

"I have suspected for some time. I did not know if it was the truth until recently. And you do not speak of all things to me either. These memories that I have."

"It is better for you that you do not know more of them," Allen says, turning to regard the large windows and the evening light that comes through them. "I am to go to Norte and retrieve the Queen."

"See?" Celena says, getting to her feet off the couch and moving to take the letter from her brother's hands. "You are the best person for this job, despite what you think of the Princess. She can send no one else, I am sure."

"Of course," Allen says.

"You act as though it is your happiness that suffers here, brother," Celena says. "For once it is not about you. Princess Eries is a sad person. A lonely one."

"Who will not do what she must to not be lonely," Allen says, lowering his head.

"Women are not so simple as that. Or so practical. You speak as though you know her. You know very little about her. Only what she shows you."

"There is more?" Allen asks. "Why would she not…"

"Simple," Celena says. "The same reason I do not show you how much I remember of being the man they turned me into. Because it is nothing you need to know. And you do not make it obvious how you feel about knowing. You push me away in that regard, as I am sure she knows you would push her."

Allen turns his blue eyes on his sister, whose chin is tipped up towards the class. Her eyes are closed, and there are tears on her lashes. He reaches out a hand to her cheek. "It scares me," Allen admits. "It is nothing I wanted to ever return to, Celena. But I would like to know what bothers you."

"I am not so sure of that," she says, nonetheless leaning her head into his hand.

* * *

The army from Norte made their way towards Fanelia without first realizing what sort of obstacles would be in their way. The border of the country was unguarded, the people from the outer provinces having built their towns and farms where the land dragons preferred not to roam, which meant that the people living in the land where the army made its way inward from were aware of their movements and had time to send word of the invasion to the capital.

The invading army, this time, had to face the dragons they had avoided with smaller numbers during the coronation ceremony.

And they were less prepared to fight them than Van or Folken ever were.

Large regiments were roasted by dragon fire, and several captains were eaten right off their horses from the front of their men before the general called a retreat.

"I do not understand, sire, what was so easy for Zaibach to enter and conquer Faneila. There are dragons for hundreds of miles in the outlying mountains before you ever reach a sign of people, and then there are high mountains that we never got close enough to see if we could cross."

"You failed," Ouran said.

"The guymelefs were malfunctioning for some reason, and the men were scared, sire, I could not continue under those circumstances."

"What you are saying, then, is that you failed."

"Yes, sire."


	13. Needless Captivity

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Needless Captivity Part Thirteen  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

The reports come that Norte has suffered a defeat, and Allen, having set his mind on retrieving Millerna, takes it as a sign of a good time to attack. He has his men prepare themselves, the small group of them that are going, and Gaddes stocks the Crusade for its journey. Celena rides with him from their home, removed from the city, where he gathered his personal supplies, and to the palace.

"Celena, I want you to stay here," Allen says.

His sister shakes her head. "Brother I can be of use to you. The things that I remember…"

"Are not enough to keep you safe. I know you want to help Millerna, Celena, but I will not risk your life for it."

"I do not want to see you injured either, and I can protect you," she protests, but Allen waves her off, having none of her pleading.

"Celena, I mean it, I do not want you along, and that is that. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to meet with the King in order to notify him of my departure."

"The princess is more liable to meet you," Celena says, cunning in her voice, and hope. "She's running things, not Dryden. He's a wreck without Millerna."

"That's why I'm going to retrieve her," Allen says, closing the carriage door on his sister and patting the side of it to signal the driver to head back to their home. "I will come home as soon as I am able on my return," he said as the carriage made a slow circle. "Keep things in order."

Celena glares out the window at her brother and then sits heavily back against the cushions of the seats in the carriage.

Allen turns and enters the castle, heading to the library.

But he notices Eries leaving the library as he enters the hallway intent on going in to see Dryden. "Allen," she says, voice a wavering uncertainty of happiness and wariness at seeing him.

"I came to inform the king that I would be departing in the morning, is he in?" Allen asks, stiff and with his heart in his throat. He is puzzled by his reaction, having never been as nervous around a woman as he finds himself with Eries.

"Dryden has just fallen asleep again," Eries says. "I am headed…" Allen takes her hand and puts it on his arm, leading her down the hallway, and out of earshot of the two guards at the door of the library. "Allen… what are you doing?"

"I want to speak with you," he says, leading her out towards the nearest courtyard.

"I do not see why. You have decided it is time for you to go. I disagree, of course, Norte is well protected now, but if you have made the decision, there must be some reason for it-"

Sitting her down on the edge of the fountain, Allen lifts a hand to her lips through her veil, and kneels before her. "Princess Eries."

Eyes widening in fear, Eries gets to her feet and turns quickly to walk from him. "Allen what's gotten into you?"

Rolling his eyes, Allen gets to his feet. "Princess," he says again. "Wait."

"What is there for me to wait upon now?" she asks softly. "I waited on you since I was a child."

"Nothing," Allen says, stepping over to put his hands on her shoulders. "Princess."

"There is still much for me to wait on," she says softly, her cheeks flushing slightly. She keeps her head straight towards the doorway she was headed for, and hopes that he does not turn her to see her expression, or the weakness in her eyes, "if you still only see me as a princess. Allen, you are leaving in the morning. This is not the time for any such discussion as the one you are proposing."

"But we will have the discussion?" Allen asks, watching the fall of her pale blond hair intently in the afternoon sunlight.

"I am a Sister of the Convent, Allen," Eries says, lowering her head.

"Pledged," Allen says, "but not dedicated. Princess, and I call you princess because I have not yet earned the right to call you by your name only, though it was no fault of mine that I never got the chance..." Slowly, he turns her by the shoulder to face him. "All I ask is the chance I did not receive when we were younger." He lifts a hand and tips her chin slowly up so that she is looking at him.

Staring, afraid and transfixed at him, Eries nods slowly, once. "As you wish."

Allen bows his head. "Thank you, Princess." He releases her shoulders and kneels again. "I must report to the Crusade to secure the final preparations."

"May Jichia guide you, Sir Schezar," Eries says, closing her eyes.

Allen takes her hand and kisses the air over it before rising and heading out of the courtyard. Eries sinks down onto the rim of the fountain, chastising herself mentally.

* * *

It is days of hard travel before Van and Arik reach the palace in Godashim, Freid, and when they arrive, they look nothing like the King and Kathis that they are. They are greeted by guards, and taken to the dungeon. 

"We need to speak to Duke Chid," Van says to the guard, "he will recognize me. I am Van de Fanel. I need to get back to Fanelia."

"Save it for someone who will listen to you," the guard says in response, turning. Like the military men of Freid, he is shirtless, with armor adorning his neck and shoulders, and then stands naked to the waist. In his hands is a large spear, and at his waist is a sword that is just out of Van's reach.

The dark hallway of the dungeon is lit with torches, and the stone is dark with moisture. Van sighs and sinks down against the wall heavily.

Arik peers at him. "What is your problem? You got depressed, suddenly."

"I've been here before," Van says with a snort. "And it will be days before we are listened to."

"Perhaps," Arik says, glancing at the guard, "perhaps not." She steps over, brushing the thick braid of her hair over her shoulder, "I want to speak to Fariah," she says. "Send me the Duke's Kathis."

The guard starts, stiffening his spine, and whirls to look at Arik before drawing his sword. "How do you know that name?" he asks.

"I want to speak with her."

The guard snaps back to attention, and does not say a word.

"Nice idea," Van says.

"It won't take so many days now," Arik replies, settling herself on the wooden bench in the cell with all the grace and nonchalance she can muster. Her mind is far away, in Ispano, with Tristan and Skan, and she worries, silently, though she gives no outward appearance of it. It had hurt her to leave Tristan, and she consoles herself only with the thought that she had at least gone to help someone who knew without asking what she felt about it.

But it offers very little comfort, in reality.

* * *

Climbing wearily from her horse, Fariah makes her way into the palace from the stables and reports directly to Chid, who greets her with a warm smile. 

'Is this what always happens to a returning lap dog?' she asks herself as she lowers herself respectfully to one knee. "I have returned, my Duke Chid," she says in a firmer voice than she had thought possible when she entered the palace.

"You look exhausted," Hathei says, narrowing his eyes. Chid had been sitting in a strategy meeting with his three military advisors, the sons of Voris.

"I ran across one of the supply lines from Egzardia to Norte while I was returning. It runs north through Basram, and dangerously close to the pass leading into Asturia on our northern border," she reports, too tired to rise.

"What happened?" Chid asks, halfway out of his seat before he catches himself and returns to his throne.

"I was attacked, and managed to escape and avoid being followed… I apologize for my tardiness," she says, looking down at the ground.

"You are a day early," Chid says, standing, this time without hesitation, and crossing to put his hands on her shoulders. "Get some rest Fariah, when you are recovered from your journey we will speak again."

"I must not…"

"I insist," Chid says, a command in his voice and a smile on his face. "I need you well."

* * *

Standing on the landing ground in the early morning hours is the royal entourage, watching the men that Allen had selected board the ship, and finally, as the last of the supplies are lifted up, Allen crosses to the group of standing people. 

Eries feels her pulse quicken as Allen and Gaddes kneel before her. To her side, Dryden clears his throat to startle her out of her inner reverie. "Sir Allen Schezar," she says, her voice steady though her throat feels thick. "May Jichia grant you success and protect you on this errand. The well wishes of the king and the country go with you."

"And you?" Allen asks in a voice almost too soft to hear as he straightens up from his kneeling position, Gaddes an amused mirror behind him.

Eries blinks behind her veil, and then says, "And of course myself," she says, forcing herself not to take a step back from the two of them.

"Then I will take my leave," Allen replies, bowing at the waist and stepping over to embrace Celena. Whatever words pass between the two of them are lost from Eries' ears as she stiffens her spine.

"You seem troubled," Dryden says to her in a soft voice, more collected than he had seemed recently. "Is anything the matter?"

Glancing at her brother-in-law, Eries finds that she cannot, at the moment, read what he means in that statement. "Some day, when you have several hours on hand, I will explain to you what the matter at hand is," she says, eyes turning back to watch as the Crusade lifts from the landing ground. "But until that time, I will bide my silence and my matters alone."

"As you wish, sister," Dryden replies. He gazes at her, the pale hair dark in the shadowy light of dawn, and turns to return to the carriage that brought them up the hill from the city. He had little reason to remain watching as the ship lifted and crossed the mountain.

Celena and Eries, however, stand in their still positions, watching the Crusade until the ship disappears from sight.

* * *

In the morning, Fariah realizes how late she has slept, and scrambles out of bed and into her boots to jog to find Chid in the reception hall. Before she enters, one of the guards coughs. 

"Yes?" she asks, turning to look at the man, brushing her hair from her face.

"There are two prisoners that were recently taken into the dungeon. One of them asked for you. By name."

"Thank you," she says, a little puzzled. She takes a moment to straighten her clothing and then steps through the arched doorway into the reception hall. The guards tense at the sight of a new figure entering, and then relax when they realize who it is that has come in.

Crossing to stand in her usual spot, Fariah folds her arms at attention behind herself, sword hanging from her hip. The entire room seems to relax. She smiles to herself at the thought of that.

"Other news," the steward asks, standing on the other side of Chid.

"None."

"Then this audience is adjourned," the steward says, taping his staff on the stone floor. Chid stands off his throne, and the rest of the advisors and peasants rise, taking three steps backwards before turning and filing out of the chamber.

Once the room is clear, he turns to Fariah. "Did you have a nice trip?"

"Nice trip?" she asks, confused. There had to be some reason that no one had brought up the prisoners in the dungeon. There had to be. She just couldn't figure it out.

"Yes. To Asturia. Did my aunt send any word?"

"Allen Schezar will be going after Queen Millerna."

"I was fairly certain that would be the case." He turns and heads towards the dining hall, Fariah following behind him.

"Princess Eries also said to remind you not to forget her when the Queen is brought back and she returns to her convent." Fariah was certain that was what Eries had meant, if she had couched her words differently, that was her choice. She continues, "And I would like to know why it is that no one brought up the prisoners that are in the dungeon."

"Prisoners?" Chid asks, pausing. "It is not customary to bring up such things in a daily meeting. It takes until the weekly meeting on defenses before such things are brought up."

"I'm starting to dislike the tradition and custom more and more," Fariah said. "But so long as it pleases you," she shrugs. "I've been asked for by one of them… if they know me then I figure there may be some reason they are here."

"I would prefer it if you wait until it's brought up."

"And if they have word on assassins out to kill you?" she asks as the doors to the dining hall are opened before them by two guards. "And I were to wait until the meeting and you were attacked when it could've been prepared for?" Fariah snorts. "Thank you but no, my Duke. I'll see to it while you are at lunch. If you will excuse me."


	14. Actions of the Interim

**Amare Dividere**

Title: _Actions of the Interim_ Part Fourteen  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.  
A/N: _I apologize for the previously crap formatting of this chapter. I was at home. It was the holidays. It happens._

* * *

Hitomi paces the chapel, wringing her hands. Outside the chapel the sky is dark, and the hallways of the castle are lit by torchlight and chandelier. She is sure that Van has returned to Gaea, absolutely positive. The feeling is as deep embedded in her brain as in her heart. She knows what she saw in the sky and yet… 

The advisors do not seem to think it possible. They believe him dead. He is not dead, she knows. Can not be dead. He had been taken _away,_ not killed. And…

Her hand strays to her stomach. The child will need its father.

The shorter seasons have been flying by. The spring has turned to summer, the summer to harvest, and soon, soon there will be cold outside and the child that grows inside her will come out to the world.

She is starting to show. Merle and the dresser that she had brought in had been very careful about hiding it, but sooner or later, she knows, someone will notice that her clothing is loose on her. That she has stopped wearing her riding pants, and is more careful in the saddle.

The doors to the chapel open, letting in a flood of light. Merle steps in, closing them behind her to once again enfold the room in the soft light of the candles on the altars.

"It has to have been him, Merle," Hitomi says as the salmon haired cat woman takes a graceful seat in one of the pews behind where Hitomi is stalking back and forth.

"If it's Van or if it isn't, what are you going to do about this, Hitomi?" she asks, her ears perked and alert. "You aren't getting very big, but you can't hide it forever."

Hitomi stops her pacing. Putting the heels of her hands to her eyes, she shakes her head slightly, "No one will understand if they find out, Merle. He was taken _before_ our wedding night."

"They don't have to understand, Hitomi. You love Van, that's enough," Merle offers. Her heart is not in her words. She has spoken them before, trying to reassure Hitomi... but lately... she is not sure if it is the best thing to reassure the queen.

"Maybe it is for you, it is for him, and it is for me, Merle, but the world won't understand what that means," Hitomi says, speaking what has been nagging at Merle. She lowers her hands from her face. "I just feel like I'm going to get attacked because of this."

"Probably. What do you want to do about it, then?" Merle asks, voice grave and heavy. She rises to her feet and crosses to stand behind Hitomi, almost afraid to suggest what she has been thinking. "There are things that you could do, if you didn't want the child."

"Merle!" Hitomi snaps, shocked. She forces herself to lower her voice. "What makes you think… that I wouldn't want it? This is Van's child."

"Who is going to arrive whether Van returns or whether Van does not. And if it will jeopardize things, then perhaps it…"

Hitomi turns to Merle and glares, her hand flying to slap the other woman's face. "How… how could you suggest… something… like that?" Her face feels hot and she knows that her cheeks are burning.

"Because," Merle replies, lifting a hand to her cheek and meeting Hitomi's gaze, "you said yourself that it may be difficult to convince people of the child's father."

"Merle!" Hitomi snaps again. "Do not _ever _suggest such a thing. Ever. I know that Van would be heartbroken if he returned to find that I had been with child and had … had… gotten rid of it."

"He would not have to know, Hitomi," Merle says.

"I am not having this discussion with you any longer, Merle."

* * *

Across the continent, Millerna sits rocking herself quietly in her dirty gown. The guard or whoever it is that brings her food is the only thing she has to mark the days by. She is holding on to hope by a thin thread, but it remains. Her thoughts whirl in a dance of Dryden and Exeter. Allen. Eries. Van and Hitomi. Her friends… her family. 

There is shouting in the halls. It is distant, but there. The faint, faint noise of swords ringing against shields and other swords. She rises quietly from her seat and walks towards the door, moving as far as her chains will allow her to move towards the door, bare feet slipping on the damp stones of the cellar floor where she is kept.

But the noises go away, and she does not hear the shouting of men calling out her name. Or she cannot believe it.

And again there is silence.

Her constant companion.

* * *

A question hangs in the air between the two prisoners, one that neither speaks aloud. 'So how much longer, do you think?' Van sits in the corner, fingers stroking the leather of his gloves and wondering about Hitomi. He had known he was nearer to Gaea when he was in Ispano, somehow. He had known by the beating of his heart in his chest. 

And now… now he finds he can hardly sit still, enraged at the thought of being so close to home... to Hitomi... and yet trapped from her.

And from his kingdom, he reminds himself.

On the other side of the cell, seated with a knee drawn up to her chest, Arik rests her chin and frowns, her eyes as faraway as Van's, but wondering what good Tristan can possibly do in the Gap without her. And why he sent her with Van.

Wrapped in thought, neither prisoner notices the guard stiffen to attention, and the worn thin boots make no noise on the stones to announce the presence of the slight figure that causes such a reaction.

"Mother?" Fariah asks, puzzled as she looks into the cell. "Open the cage," she snaps to the guard, who starts at the tone.

"I… I don't have the… the key… m'lady," the guard stammers.

"Then get it," Fariah replies, over enunciating her words.

With a stiff bow, the guard heads down the corridor, leaving Fariah to the prisoners. Arik, inside, drawn from her musings, smiles at her daughter in a relieved manner. Van starts and turns to look at the young woman on the far side of the thick bars.

"I am glad your name holds some sway in your assigned country, child of mine," she says, rising and crossing to the bars to embrace her daughter through them.

"How did you get here?" Fariah asks, a puzzled look on her face. "Last I had heard you were at the Compound… and now…? I ordered the guards to send anyone questionable to the dungeon while I was away… because of the assassination attempts... I wasn't expecting visitors like you…"

"These are things we can speak of later. What you need to know is that I am here with Van de Fanel. And it is important that the king be returned home."

"Truly?" Fariah asks, gazing up into her mother's similar eyes skeptically. "We were informed he was dead."

"Rumors," Van says in reply, standing in his corner at the mention of his name. "I am very much alive. I have just been on a very long journey."

The guard returns with the keys and Fariah gives him a pointed look as he fumbles to open the lock on the cell door, but soon enough he does and steps to the side, holding it open.

"This way," Fariah says, "Duke Chid is just having lunch."

* * *

Dryden and Exeter do not look like they are as downtrodden as Eries knows them to be as she sits watching the King and Crown Prince play in the field outside of Thera. She has returned to speak to the Mother Superior at Tuloom Convent, and with the contingent of guards she is certain that both will be well cared for. 

A shiver runs down her back to think that these were the fields that Zaibach took Celena from when she was a little older than Exeter, but she does not let that linger in her mind as she heads on foot up the path towards the convent, Celena trailing a step behind her.

"Your memories," Eries asks Celena in a soft, gentle voice. "How far back do they go?"

"Until a short time before I was turned," Celena replies, not entirely sure she is comfortable with discussing this with Eries, though relieved to have someone willing to listen. "I was not aware…"

"Allen asked me to watch over you, once," the princess says in reply to the unfinished question. Eries walks in silence for a long moment. "What is the first thing you remember?"

Celena's eyes soften. "Jajuka," she says.

"And before?"

"I was very young," Celena replies remorsefully.

"Does Allen talk to you about what happened?"

"No," Celena says, eyes distant. "He is… afraid I may turn back."

"Please understand," Eries says in a gentle voice, "Allen lost you twice to Dilandu. You remembering must scare him greatly."

Celena holds back her comment at that, and the two of them walk in relative silence, the only noise their shoes on the stones beneath their feet, the rustle of their dresses as they walk, and the guards surrounding them.

The gates of the convent are opened at their approach, and several of the sisters greet them in the front entrance courtyard. "Princess, what brings you back?" one of the women asks, a bright smile on her face.

"I need to speak to the Mother Superior," Eries says, smiling in return. "And I thought perhaps the King and the Crown Prince could benefit from some time spent with one another without the eyes of the kingdom upon them."

"I'll show you, Princess," one of the younger sisters says, smiling. "And don't worry about your hand maiden. We will be sure she is allowed to rest in the cool of the indoors."

Nodding her thanks, Eries follows the younger sister into the corridors of the convent, pausing to instruct the guards, "Wait for me here, along with the Lady Celena. We will return."

* * *

Van and Arik are brought straightaway into Chid's presence, Fariah pushing past the guards despite their cautioning tones. Arik kneels behind her daughter, and Van bows his head respectfully. 

"Your prisoners, my Duke," Fariah says, stepping aside to let Chid see Van. "I thought perhaps I would not be so far out of line to bring King Van to see you."

With a half frown at the start of her speech, Chid's bright eyes blink, widening. "Van?"

"Duke Chid."

"Who is this with you?"

"Arik Dulchap," comes the response from the woman who stands from her kneeling position on the floor. "In the service of the High Priest of Ispano."

Another question hangs in the air like the scent of Chid's lunch, but no one asks it.

"I was sent to guard His Majesty, King Van, when he was found in my lord's lands, and to see that he makes it home to his country and his wife."

"I see," Chid says. He claps his hands twice, and servants step forward, "This is cause for some small celebration. We will make preparations for the safe return of King Van de Fanel for the end of the week, and until that time he, and his companion, will be the honored guests of Freid."

Inwardly, Van groans. More time away from Hitomi. More time spent absent from his country, his people. The very thought of it… he had been worried because of the rebel groups in the mountains… but with the attack on their wedding ceremony he cannot be quite sure whether it is rebels or someone else.

He smiles at Chid and Fariah as though pleased, but from beside him he hears Arik's huff of breath, and knows that she sees through him. "Everything will be taken care of," Chid assures them. "We will have words about the breaking of tradition," he says to Fariah.

Arik glances at Fariah, who nods her head, and then at Van before bowing at the waist. "My Duke," Fariah says, extending a hand towards a corridor.

Chid follows his bodyguard, and the room relaxes as they depart.

"Come, and I will help you to find clean attire," one of the low-eyed servants says.

Arik waits for Van, impressed at the deference the servants show them, and glances at their attire. Ripped, torn, dirty clothing… their faces, if Van's is one to judge by, are little better. No wonder they were deemed questionable enough for dungeons.

* * *

In the afternoons, the Egzardian princesses walk the courtyard, a small knot wearing dark gowns, and speak about what happened in the castle the day before. They were housed in two separate rooms, by choice. 

The castle in Fanelia, they all agree as they walk the stone halls, is large, but old fashioned. The walls are thick, but the approaching winter makes them cold.

"It is as though the dragons are expected to warm it!" Jazel says, and all the girls chuckle.

Merle, trailing behind them, rolls her eyes. She wishes she were anywhere else, doing anything else, but Hitomi had asked that the girls always have an escort. And today she is the only one without other duties to attend to.

They start to pass the chapel's courtyard entrance, and the girls lower their voices, knowing that Queen Hitomi is often in meditation within the walls, and how loud the outside noises of their voices can be inside it.

As they pass, the doors start to open slowly, and are hastily assisted in doing so by the guards standing outside them. Hitomi thanks them in a gentle voice and steps through to meet the girls.

All of them are quite shocked, and Merle is amused to find that Saphira and Jazel stop short, leaving Rubi and Quivel to nearly run into them. It is Jazel who finally leads the sisters in sweeping a curtsy to the Queen, and asks softly, "Did we disturb you, your majesty?"

"Not at all," Hitomi says, glancing up at the sun. "I was wondering, instead, if you ladies would like to accompany me on an afternoon ride. I am finding the castle quite closed in today, and sometimes take the air on horseback."

Merle shoots her a warning look over the girls' heads, but Hitomi either does not see the look or does not take heed of it. Rubi claps her hands happily. "Could we, majesty?" she asks, straightening up and nearly jumping for joy.

"I would not have offered if I did not wish you to come."

"Highness," Merle says, stepping forward and curtsying grandly. "Are you sure it is the best idea?"

"We are not prisoners in this country," Hitomi replies, lifting her chin. "And it is time we started acting like it. Winter will be upon us soon enough, and there will be no nice weather to ride horses in. So now we will enjoy the pleasures that we have."

Two perwinkle eyes shoot up in warning. "I only hope for your highness's safety. Do be careful."

Hitomi nods slowly. "The guard will be accompanying us. And I am nothing if not careful," she replies.


	15. Secret Speaking

**Amare Dividere **

Title: _Secret Speaking_ Part Fifteen  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

A/N after the story.

* * *

The baby is coming. It is early for the delivery to have started, but there is nothing that anyone can do to stop that. All Emman's preparedness does little good, the queen finds, when the child decides to stir in its mother a month early. Princess Kira's screams are loud enough to wake the guards on the ground floor of the palace in the middle of the night, and bring the castle steward on the heels of the Queen.

It is mid-harvest. An inopportune time to call the servants from a good night's rest, or to wake the farmers. The midwife resides a day's ride away from the castle through forest, so there is no hurrying her arrival.

To all apparent, who see the sweat on the princess's face, the grit of her lovely teeth as her stomach muscles contract, the child will be born that night. Perhaps before the sun rises.

Nileyah, having tripped her way into her clothes and followed the Queen and steward to the room. When the Queen disappeared into the bedchamber, shoving her son into the antechamber, she had waited beside the steward for the prince's reaction. It is delayed. In his confusion, she pushes him towards a chair in the outer room with a firm hand, despite his scowl of protest.

"I cannot just sit by and watch!" Jasper roars, leaping from his seat and pacing the room angrily. "She is my wife! That is my child!"

"And both are in danger," Emman says in a soft voice as she steps out of the bedroom. "You can do nothing for them."

The prince turns troubled green eyes on his Kathis, a look pleading with her, though unnecessary.

"Stay here, Jasper," Nileyah says, her clothing askew because of the haste, hair a mess. She rolls up her sleeves purposefully. "Let me do what can be done."

Emman looks between the two of them from her position near the door to the princess, and her heart comes up to her throat. Behind her, a writhing woman married to her son, and very much in love with him. Before her, a woman very much in love with the same man, but bound in a different manner.

Cruelty, but on whose part?

Without another word to the agitated man, Nileyah nods her head, and puts a hand on the prince's shoulder, stepping past him to start snapping orders at the servants. "Warm water! Towels! And for Haeris' sake bring the knar!"

The servants, who had been standing around, snap into action, and two are out of the door before the prince, who the Queen steps forward to guide out into the hallway herself.

"Mother," Jasper says in a broken voice, turning to put his arms around the aged woman. "I am…" his voice is very quiet, "scared."

"Hush, son," Emman replies. "Nileyah always does all she can for you. This will be no different. If Kira can be saved, now, this morning, you and I both know that she is the one who will do it. Go downstairs and have some breakfast. Kira will need you strong when she is finished with this."

Reluctantly, Jasper complies, walking slowly down the hall past the returning servants. Emman turns with a heavy sigh back towards the room, following the hot water in.

Receiving the pain relieving knar root ground in hot water, Nileyah lifts the cup to Kira's lips. "It will taste harsh," Nil says, "but you will need it. I will not mince words with you," the Kathis continues, "this is a serious turn of events."

There is a groaning chuckle from the woman lying on the bed, as if to say that were obvious. Once dark lips, pale with pain, part to take the medicine down her throat. The steam fills Kira's nostrils, and she feels the pain recede, and with it threatens conscience. A strong hand takes Nil's wrist in a vice grip. "The child lives," a determined voice says. "If it's me or the child, the child lives," she says, violet eyes dark and meaningful. "He will have you if I die, you have it so you may chose."

And then the herb's affect takes hold of her, and the hand on Nileyah's wrist slackens, and it falls to the bed.

Emman stands quietly at the foot of the bed, observing. Kira had spoken too low for the Queen to make out her words, but her intent was unmistakable.

"It does not look good," Nil says, turning to look at her Queen. "Highness, I may not be able to save both. Even my lady knows it."

"And her decision?" Emman asks, voice and eyes grave.

"The child," Nil says, eyes watering.

"So be it."

* * *

Gaddes had been at Allen's side during the attack. He understands, as he and Allen make their slow way back to the _Crusade_, what Eries meant when she had disagreed with his haste, but knows that it was Allen's decision to make in the end, and so he helps his wounded friend towards the ship. They barely escaped, in the end. 

The battle had been a blur of swords and blood, the rushing noise of footsteps on stone and the scream of warriors fighting with every ounce of strength. It had been a good battle, Gaddes reflects, but the price of it had almost been too high.

"Celena… wanted to come…" Allen says with a laugh as the two of them rest on the rocky side of the hill.

"Well then it's a good thing," Gaddes checks the bandage over Allen's arm, tightening it slightly and receiving a groan for his trouble, "that you told her no, isn't it? Stay here, I'm going to go look for the ship. The rest of the crew should be keeping an eye for us." He does not add that not all the crew will have escaped. Or that not the losses were likely tremendous. A good battle was one thing… but war was never a good thing. Casualties were real, and some things could never be taken back.

"You… do… that," Allen says, not bothering to add that he will remain resting.

Of the two of them, he has lost more blood. He fought harder, because of anger and frustration at the situation, he went in blindly in a manner he had not since he was very young. With a wince, Gaddes notes that Allen will bear the scars of this outing, and hopes that those scars will not endanger what headway the blond knight was making with Eries.

In his opinion, the two of them have been playing in circles for far too long. Since Allen had reformed himself, since Celena had returned to him… there is no obstacle, in Gaddes' mind at least, to the old betrothal being honored.

He had known both of them when they were much younger. He had seen the royal carriage outside the Schezar house in town, and the guards riding before it. He had seen the smile on the pale princess's face to be helped down, and the look on Encia's face as she knelt before the royal child. It had looked, to Gaddes, like a dance… one in which all parties were willing, even if Allen did not know it.

His head spins, and he catches himself from tottering down the hill without Allen. Too much thought could get dangerous, just now.

"So," Gaddes says as he returns, fighting the vertigo from his own, lesser blood loss, again impressed at how well Allen manages his body, "what are you going to say to _her_ about this mess?"

Allen sets his jaw. "It … depends," he says, struggling step for step with Gaddes, "on… if… I make… it back…"

"You're going to make it back, you jackass," Gaddes replies, pulling Allen from the ground and putting his arm over his shoulders. "Otherwise I could've left your heavy ass… back in the castle!"

Allen lets out a bark of laughter that is quick followed by a cough. "How far…?"

"The next hill," Gaddes says in a low voice. "So don't you die on me now."

"It… honestly… depends… on what… she says," Allen admits, eyes rolling back into his head and changing the subject. Thinking about death won't do now. He closes his eyelids and forces himself to struggle on, helping Gaddes drag his useless body as best he can. "If I… fall… at the top of… this hill… let me roll… down…"

"Whatever you say, commander," Gaddes replies with a snort.

* * *

"What is it you come to speak to me about with such a grave look on your face, Aria?" the Mother Superior asks. Unlike the other sisters, who had always looked up to her and called her princess, the Mother Superior, who had known the late Queen, Therese, addressed Eries in the manner that her own mother would have, had she survived, and called her by her middle name. 

Eries lowers herself to her knees reverently, "I have a weakness, Mother. I feel… unwell because of it."

"It is not like you to be so sick with something." The Mother Superior sits heavily in the chair behind her desk. "Empty your mind to me."

"When I was very young, my father arranged for me to be married," Eries says, her throat thick. "But the… boy… was not informed of the suit… and so…"

"These things are in the past, child," the Mother Superior says in a gentle voice. "It may hurt, but Jichia teaches that grieving is done for the dead, and not the past. The past can only cloud the present if you let it. What happened then is between you and he and Jichia, who holds all secrets and knows all things. Tell me what troubles you now, Aria."

"I came to Tuloom thinking that I would forget the world outside, Mother," she says in a soft voice. "I came to Tuloom to forget, to leave the past behind as Jichia says. To be like water flowing downstream. But now… now that I am back in Palas and I am around him… there is no peace from the thought of him…"

"I feel I should ask why you wanted to give up this man who seems so all encompassing, given your words. But only as it relates to yourself."

Eries blinks, glancing up at the Mother Superior.

"My heart tells me that what reasons you had for leaving this man were not entirely of your own making. If that is the case, then you are running from this, which is why you cannot put him aside as you wish to. And it is why your home has not become here with us."

"Mother, I do not know if I can find the strength to be who I must to accept him. He has done… things… To forgive… It is hard, Mother."

"If life were easy, it would not be as sweet," the Mother Superior says, "the path Jichia leads is not always along a smooth shore."

"These things are all?"

"It is not an easy thing to feel nothing for him. In anyone's case."

"Then let it not be your case either." Rising, the old woman steps over to brush her wrinkled fingers across Eries's bare forehead. "How goes the search for your sister?"

* * *

Tristan finds himself amazed, yet again, at Skan's resourcefulness. The winged man goes about warming the last of their trapped food on a small, smokeless fire in the cave that the High Priest had retreated the two of them to. It has been days since Van and Arik left the temple, and though neither had mentioned it in their varied languages, both feel the absence of one of the departed keenly. 

Tristan's mind, as he watches the dark red glow of the barely-there fire, strays again to Arik, and he wonders, idly, how she is faring with Van. His eyes are so intent on the fire that he does not even notice when Skan has finished heating the food.

The winged man waves his hand before the priest's face and brings him back to the moment at hand.

"Sorry," Tristan says with a smile, aware that the other man most likely cannot understand him. "I was wondering about Arik."

Skan's face twists into a slight frown, and he rolls his eyes, shoving the small wooden bowl of food at Tristan. When the priest takes the bowl, the Draconian reaches up to his neck to remove a small pendant.

Tristan begins eating before realizing that Skan is speaking in a hushed voice. What draws the priest back is the glow of the cave walls around them. They are a soft, shimmering pink, and his eyes look to the source of the light.

"An energist," Tristan says in a confused voice.

Much of what he had seen in Asgardia had made little sense to the High Priest, which troubled him, since _his_ land was supposedly that which the Draconians of Asgardia had created for them. The chanting around the fire at night… the battles… the singing…

Skan hushes him with his eyes, holding the stone over the fire and concentrating, the words he speaks turning melodious, sounding like the songs sung evenings on Asgardia with the Draconians, which had always sounded like prayer to Tristan, though even he admitted he was biased.

The air above the fire starts to shimmer, a placid teal color, and the center of the shimmering light flattens out into a small window, and in it he sees Arik.

"But where is Van?"

Skan shrugs his wings, absently, the image widening to show that Arik is tucked in a bed, eyes closed but looking troubled in her sleep, with a similarly sleeping, though smaller, female figure beside her. Tristan frowns, not knowing who the other woman might be, and a surge of jealousy flares up in him, strangely, until he sees the color of the younger woman's hair and the slant of her cheekbones.

So familiar.

Once, distantly, he can remember from their stay in the Compound, Arik had mentioned… _"The Council is certain that every Kathis sent out is capable of fathering… or giving birth to a child, Tristan. No one leaves the Compound on a mission of becoming a bodyguard without having that proven without a doubt."_

This, then, his mind catches up to his memory to inform him, will be the child that Arik had before she knew him. No wonder the child looks so similar. No wonder they are sleeping so closely.

Skan, watching his face, sees that he is satisfied, and trails off his speak-singing, the image fading out into the lick of the flames beneath it, the walls darkening from their luminescence.

"That was probably dangerous… it could attract attention."

Skan regards him flatly, a look that says volumes. The least of which an annoyed, 'What do you want from me?' And then there is a noise, and the winged man tenses, rising to his feet in a crouch and drawing his sword.

But the head that peaks through wears no armor and the body that follows bears no weapons. The small man is a sight for sore eyes, and as he gazes at Tristan, his eyes water as much as the priest's.

* * *

A/N: _Gaddes, in this chapter, makes a reference about the battle having been a 'good' one. I think of this in the slant of the show. Gaddes is a seasoned warrior, a knight-for-hire, according to the way I laid the story out. Draw your own conclusions._


	16. Eggshells of Happiness

**Amare Dividere **

Title: Eggshells of Happiness Part Sixteen  
Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

* * *

Merle finds herself lingering in the chapel long after Hitomi is gone, and is ashamed of herself because of it. Her duty, she knows, is not to cower in this manner, but to be constantly at Hitomi's side, protecting her in the time of danger. There are many foreign soldiers around the country, and with the refugee monarchs and their daughters there is much uncertainty surrounding both the castle and the Queen. 

But lately, she has been a little glad for Hitomi's hardship, and she feels in her heart that these feelings are unjust in regards to the Queen of Fanelia, and her good friend. Hitomi's happiness, though the source of some of Merle's pain, was not the direct cause of it. And Hitomi had done nothing wrong by being happy with Van.

The smiles on her oldest friend's face had been enough to assure her that Hitomi was doing more than adequately at making Van happy, and that was really the only thing that could ever have turned Merle from being Hitomi's friend. Nearly seven years prior, she had blamed Hitomi for Van's sorrow, and even, in her least charitable moments of self-loathing over what had happened to Van, she could blame Hitomi for what she had done to try and cheer him up. But deep down, Merle knew that no one was to blame for that incident except the perpetrators, and they had perished for their crimes.

Kneeling before the altar, Merle stares up at the icons carved into the wall, and speaks an almost silent prayer, "May the Queen and her child live. May the King return. May my friends be safe." She closes her eyes. Prayer, Merle had turned her back on long ago. The dragon god, she recalled a hateful member of the Consortium spitting at her, did not aide those not of his own kind.

She cannot believe that, anymore, though, she finds. Not after the way that Hitomi had returned because of Van's silent prayers. Not after how Fanelia had been saved by Escaflowne. The entire country were not descended of dragons… just the king.

"May my heart be strong. May my intentions be pure. May all those I know and care for see the end of the war and live to tell stories of it."

The air pressure changes slightly, and she turns her head to look at the side door to the chapel, expecting to find Hitomi staring at her with accusing eyes. But it is not the jade eyed queen, instead, she is quite surprised to find that Quivel, the youngest of the Egzardian princesses.

"I am sorry," the princess says in a soft voice, obviously trembling. "I did not mean to interrupt you. I… was looking for the great hall."

"It is a large castle," Merle replies, rising from her knees and stepping in the direction of the princess, putting her palm up against the thick carved wood to open the door. "Easy to get lost in. Allow me to escort you."

* * *

The week of celebration can not pass by quickly enough for Van, though to his credit, Arik does not think many know of his frustration. And she herself is kept busy with talking to her daughter when the two of them are not sitting in silent prayer or being feasted or being danced before. It is a nice change to spend some quiet time with Fariah. 

"Tell me of things in the wide world," Arik says to her, sitting with hawk-like eyes watching Van and Chid move through the motions of sword practice, the monarchs' only respite from the festivities.

"Queen Millerna of Asturia was taken by the king of Norte."

"That much I knew. Ouran's threat appears clear."

Fariah pauses for a moment before speaking, knowing that the age of Aden and his twin sister would put them close to the same training time as her mother. "It was Aden Calipse who is responsible for him."

Arik frowns. "No, that I cannot believe. Nileyah and Aden were close twins. And there is nothing that would turn Aden from the Consortium. He loved his queen, of that I am certain."

"Love is a fickle thing, mother," Fariah replies, eyes scanning the other cardinal balconies as is her practice when Chid worked with his sword. It is not impossible that someone will try the same tactics again. Word does not spread of how attacks happen, in Freid, only that they have.

"More than you know," Arik said, shaking her head slightly.

"You left the Compound with the High Priest."

"Ispano was invaded by Norte's forces, Fari," Arik says, turning kind eyes on her daughter. "The Compound is no safer a place than the hills of my father. And so I took my lord Tristan where he would safe. And where he would have a choice."

"Where he would, or where you would, mother?" Fariah asks, turning gray eyes accusingly at her mother. "When I was a child you told me what it meant to truly be a companion. You told me it was heartless and cruel to give someone that sort of an expectation only to rip it from them."

"It has happened many times to many I have known. To friends and sisters. To brothers and cousins you will never meet. Because they are dead."

"It is a service, mother. Nothing more. You said so yourself. It is a cruel service."

"You only just received your post, Fari, I do not expect you to understand what I have come to over the years."

"It is easier to reaffirm a position than to create one against what you already believe, mother. You always thought that was wrong. Your years have done nothing but strengthen your opinion of it."

"Perhaps," Arik replies. "But if this is the case, then if you have the opportunity, I want you to look into Nileyah's eyes. I want you to gaze at Aden when his soul is free and his body is his own. See their sorrow. And if you will not see theirs. See mine."

Blinking her bright, wide eyes, Fariah takes a step back from her mother. "You…"

"Yes," Arik says, turning her face towards her daughter, straightening her shoulders in the gown she had been gifted with by Chid. "In a way I was not allowed to know your father."

"Then you left so that…"

"He did not want such a thing, Fari. He was a child of a Kathis father, and I could not, in conscious, force a child from him." A hand strays to her stomach. "Though I may have miscalculated."

"You left him behind in Ispano, mother. You betrayed-"

"Enough of this talk," Arik snaps at her daughter. "I was forced to leave Ispano by my lord and my charge and the king below with your duke. I am strong, Fari, but you could not have met those eyes and won either."

"You are talking nonsense. All of this. We are trained for such battles! You are strong, mother. I cannot believe that you were overpowered… unless you were willing."

"Then perhaps you have been too long without your own thoughts, Fari." Rising, she bows to her daughter in the Freidan manner. "The life of a Kathis is hard, because if we dare to hope for what we know may come to pass, we are often disappointed. And if we do not hope, it can come to pass, regardless. Fate is not so simple as you seem to think of her. Even if we get what it is we think we want, sometimes it is not entirely as you dream of it." She straightens, meeting her daughter's gray eyes with her own cold stony ones.

"I will leave you to your thoughts now, and hope you will one day see the truth instead of what Mot has thrust upon you. I require practice with a sword." Her tone is less than amused, and the slant of her shoulders displeased. She had thought she raised a more open-minded daughter than that. Apparently, she thinks, she has been wrong.

As the taller woman heads down the stairs, drawing her hair over her shoulder to braid it out of her eyes, Fariah clenches her fists. 'What could that mean? There is nothing I do not know about this position that I need to. There is nothing I will learn that I haven't already.'

And then she sees her mother, dressed in an elegant gown, take two swords from the standing armory steward, bow her head, and step out into the practice battle between Chid and Van.

Her eyes are glued to the scene as she hears the words drift up to her.

* * *

"Arik?"

"My lady," Chid says at the same time. Their looks ask the obvious question. 'What are you doing?'

"I am out of practice," she says with a smile. "I would appreciate training with the two of you."

"Two against one is hardly fair," Chid says, lowering his sword. Van follows suit.

"Perhaps it is not fair, but true battle rarely is. I will train this way with you or I will train in this manner with others. If I am to continue with this position, I need my skills sharp."

* * *

There is more discussion, but in the end, Arik's logic wins over the two men, and the battle begins. To Fariah's eyes there is little more beautiful than the swinging dance of the swords and the whirling fabric and braid as her mother fends off the two young men. She is proud of Chid's progress, and heaves a sigh that he is disarmed and forgotten halfway through the battle.

But the clash of swords between her mother and the Fanelian king is more than enough to make up for her disappointment in him. The two experts clash blades, and Arik lowers one to toss it across the grass to the steward.

* * *

Dawn breaks, and two worn out women rest in awkward positions on the large bed of the royal couple. "The child," Nil says, lifting the near-silent baby to the queen. "Take him to his father. I have work to do." 

Emman nods her head gravely, taking the child and wrapping it in clean cloth set aside for the child, heading into the hallway with it held securely against her breast as she goes to find her son.

"The… child?" Kira echoes in a weak voice. One that Nil had not realized the princess still had the strength to use.

The Kathis woman reaches out and takes the princess's hand in her own messy one, offering her a smile of support as she sees the woman's eyelids flutter open. "Alive and healthy. A fine son."

Closing her eyes wearily once more, the princess nods.

"Don't you dare," Nil snaps. Her roughly shorn hair had started to grow back in the months since she had returned from Norte, and it falls in front of her eyes. "You keep your eyes open! You aren't leaving him!"

A grimace of a smile graces Kira's pale lips, and she nods. "I will do my best."

"And I will do better than mine," Nil replies.

* * *

Fariah is both proud of her mother as she throws aside her second weapon and battles with the Fanelian king, and also very disturbed. The two warriors, for Fariah cannot deny that Van seems to be very much a warrior as well as a king, clash swords two handedly with a look of mirrored grim determination on their faces. 

Slowly, she makes her way down to where Chid has fallen, and watches the battle, enthralled. Wordlessly, she picks the younger boy up off the ground and dusts him off.

Her mother's words haunt her mind, and she finds that she cannot entirely disregard them. She lets go of Chid, who is still paying her little attention, and returns to watching the embankments and the balconies warily.

Small periods of laxness will prove fatal to Chid, in her mind if not in actuality. The world, her mind reminds her silently, is at war.

There is an angry roar from Van, and Fariah's gray eyes are turned back to the battle. She is surprised to find that both Arik and Van are leaning in closely towards one another, as though conversing, their muscles straining.

And then, likewise as the unison of their expressions, both take a staggering step backwards and lower their sword points to the ground.

"I am out of practice," Arik says, bowing her head to Van.

"As am I," the Fanelian king replies.

Kiyo, who Fariah has not noticed standing with the swords, takes a bowing step forward. "My Duke, Lord King, my lady," he greets each in kind before bowing silently to Fariah. "The spar was well played indeed. But the sun grows high in the sky, and it is nigh the hour for the ceremony of departure."

Fariah frowns to herself. She had forgotten that today was the day her mother and Lord Van were going to depart.

* * *

Down in the dining hall, Emman finds her son, as she had commanded, having breakfast and looking very distraught. "Your son, Jasper," she says, stepping over near him to draw the cloth from the quiet, pale child's face. 

"And my wife?" Jasper asks in a shaky voice, rising immediately.

Emman hands her grandson to his father, and steps over to warm herself by the fire as the morning light reaches the palace. One of the servants thoughtfully brings a chair over for the aged woman. "Nileyah is with her now. She is the best hands in the castle to tend to her."

"We should have had the midwife here sooner," Jasper says, holding the child awkwardly. "We should have… been more prepared." The baby's face tilts towards the sound of his voice, but the crown prince is regarding his mother as she rests wearily by the fire.

"These are things that you examine in the past sense. It is no use speaking of them now. I do not remember giving birth to you, or I would have known more." Her eyes grow kind. "What will you name the child?"

"I will let Kira decide."

"And if she does not last the day?"

"Then I already know the child's name," he replies, voice stiff at the thought. He does not care that his mother is simply trying to prepare him for the worst. It does not matter. It is nothing he wants to acknowledge. "And there is no need to ask me further about it."

"Everyone is doing what they can," Emman assures her son, placatingly lifting her hands. "There is nothing for you and I to do but to wait."

Cradling the child in his arms protectively, Jasper does not look up at his mother as he speaks. "I do not know what I will do if anything happens to her."

"You will do what you must, and raise your son in the manner she would have wanted you to," Emman says in a stern voice. "Otherwise you will dishonor the life she has lead and the love you have shared."

There is silence in Jasper's eyes as he glances up at his mother, and then returns to staring at the unopened eyes of his child. The noise of the doors opening signals Nil's entrance into the hall, and Emman and Jasper look anxiously at her.

Sleeves rolled up, sweat on her brow that plasters her uneven hair to her forehead, there is blood up Nil's forearms, sticky but drying. "The princess lives," she says in a worn out voice. "But she is very weak."

Jasper's smile brightens his entire face, and he moves past Nil towards the stairs in the hall carrying the baby, leaving the Kathis and the Queen to stare evenly at one another.

"And you?" Emman asks in a gentle voice, rising and motioning the strong young woman into her seat.

"I am doing my best for the princess," she replies, sitting wearily in the chair offered. Her skin, normally a healthy bronzed tan, is pale, and there is sweat dripping from her forehead. Her rough cut hair is matted with sweat, and she smells like the birthing sheets she has just carried from the princess's chambers.

"I never doubted that. I simply asked how you were doing. I expect an answer." Emman motions to the servant who had been feeding Jasper. "Water, and food."

The servant bows wordlessly and turns to return to the kitchen. It is no different than serving the royal family, to assist the black haired Kathis when she had need of it. It is never very often, the servants find, since she takes care of everything for herself other than cooking and her laundry. Her room is sparsely furnished, and maintained like a military barrack. Her clothing is simple and she requires no dresser, nor an attendant.

When she does need something, it is usually asked for by someone else, instead of her. So the servants do not mind helping someone so unobtrusive, if they mind helping the royal family at all.

"You look like death is sitting on your shoulder," Emman says.

"It was staring the princess in the face. It was a battle I do not care to repeat," Nil replies, head drooping to rest against her chest.

"We will get you cleaned up, and then you can rest. With luck, you will feel better soon."

Nil does not reply to that comment, but lets her sticky arms rest on her lap and closes her eyes, thinking that it will take much more to make her better than luck, or even rest. She feels the darkness of death heavy in her chest, and knows that Kira is on borrowed time.


	17. Comforts of Home and Family

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Comforts of Home and Family Part Seventeen   
Series: Vision of Escaflowne   
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

* * *

As the airship departs to take Van and Arik to Fanelia, Chid glances at Fariah. The morning light catches her red hair, making it look like tendrils of fire confined in a braid down her back. "That woman looked very much like you," he says.

"Yes, she did," Fariah replies quietly. She does not want to admit to Chid that Arik is her father… because of some sense of shame at being related to a Kathis who would abandon their charge, but she knows there is no use lying to him. "From what I have seen of the paintings, you look much like your mother as well."

"You said that we all had mothers. Was she yours?" Chid asks, intrigued. Fariah never speaks of her family, or of where she and the other Kathis come from.

While it has never bothered Chid, it also does not make him feel entirely comfortable. In the months Fariah has been in Freid, she has learned much of him. Fariah nods. Chid did not know that all the Kathis knew more of him than even he did himself. It was a small measure of consolation that she was giving him less information than she knew of him. But the cruel thought disturbs her, for some reason. While doubtful of the need for her, Chid had never been cruel to her… or deserving of such hurtful thoughts.

"But if she was your mother… was she not also a Kathis? I have never before seen her with Lord Van. It would be someone he had known for a long time, would it not?"

Again, Fariah nods.

"My mother is not the Fanelian Kathis. She was stationed in Ispano, before the country fell to Norte. She left her charge, by his command, to return a debt owed to the Fanelian King. I do not understand it, nor do I approve of it."

"Why do you think so badly of her for such things?" Chid asks, a frown threatening on his pale face. Family, in his experience, has always been more important than argument. His aunts had shown that quite well. He knows that his family does not always get along, but, perhaps because of Asturian pride, they never share their anger with the public, and always support one another, in the end.

"Because if my mother left her charge's side, for whatever reason, she is disregarding a duty that she should not have. It is one that we are all made aware of, and she has apparently decided is not worth completing."

"What duty is that?" Chid asks, offering Fariah a confused and innocent look.

Fariah opens her mouth to reply, but looking at Chid, she finds that she cannot. He is too young to think of things like marriage and heirs. "I will tell you another time," she says, glancing at the sun in the sky. "It is almost time for your morning audience. Shall we?"

* * *

Again alone standing in the corner of the full dining room, Merle's quick eyes watch Hitomi closely as the queen and her friend holds evening meal with her guests. To Hitomi's credit, in Merle's eyes, the blond woman little betrays either her condition or her longing for the absent King.

"Lady Queen," Quivel says, speaking up for the first time that evening. The hall had been nearly silent, since Hitomi was initiating no conversation all others had kept theirs to a polite and quiet murmur out of respect.

"Yes, princess?" Hitomi replies, turning her compassionate green eyes on the youngest daughter of the refugees.

"I never was given the opportunity to thank you… for the lives of myself and my family," she says, eyes staring down at her plate. "You should know how grateful we are."

"I do not require such shows of gratitude," Hitomi says, her voice sounding foreign and very formal to her own ears. "It is what Van would do, were he here."

"Not everyone thinks so," Benanoir says, speaking up. "Your borders are not unreachable from Norte's troops."

Merle's ear pricks towards the door. A breathless messenger, running messenger approaches.

"This is true, however…" Hitomi says, cut off by the entrance of the messenger admitted warily by the guards.

"Forgive the intrusion, highness, honored guests, but a ship approaches from Freid. It looks to land at a safe distance from the castle. The captain of the guard said that I should come to inform you of it immediately."

"I thank you," Hitomi replies, turning to smile at the man, who bows deeply. She is not nearly as calm as she looks. Her heart is thudding in her chest. From Freid? Why would Chid send word unless… unless Van… she can hardly believe it, and relief floods her body, muscles relaxing as she sits back against her chair. That had been the direction she had felt the urge to go in when she saw the light… it can only be him.

"Lady Queen?" Benanoir asks.

"It is news long coming," Hitomi replies, her smile softer as she stiffens her spine and returns to the meal at hand. She glances towards Merle where the cat woman stands in the corner, and is surprised to find her old friend frowning slightly. Her expression sobers as she sees that. Hope is one thing, she reminds herself, but reality another.

The world is at war, and there are other reasons to send an aiship.

* * *

"Do you not wish to see your wife, king?" Arik spits out as the airship makes its descent outside the castle and a distance from the city. It is impossible to fathom why Van would do such a thing instead of landing nearer the city and the palace. She feels like pacing, except that Van does not show such signs of anxiousness.

"I do not wish us shot down," Van replies evenly. "I made sure that Hitomi would be well guarded in my absence. I would like to live to see her again and not die in an accidental attack by my own people."

"It is time for the evening meal. There is little that would stop us. The castle will be at peace at the moment. Defenses slacken during meal time."

"Word will reach the castle," Van says with a shake of his head. He turns to look out the window of the cabin at the city below, and feels the ache in his heart. "Hitomi will know."

* * *

It was her idea to remove the King and the Crown Prince from the capital to take some time to themselves. To let father and son be a family again, even if her sister were not present. There was only one place she could really think of taking them. And so Eries has kept Dryden and Exeter in Thera for nearly a week, enjoying the pleasant smiles on their faces, when the first dark cloud passes over the field the three of them are enjoying themselves in. Seated beneath a tree in the shade, hidden from the brightest of the sunlight, Eries gets a better view of the shape that makes the shadow.

The Crusade.

'This afternoon,' Eries thinks to herself, her first instinct to gather Exeter and Dryden and depart for the palace in the city. 'They deserve this happiness a little while longer. If Allen has failed…'

She shakes her head, veiled face etched with sadness beneath the thin covering, and settles her hands in her lap, taking as much joy from seeing her sister's family relaxing as she can.

'If Allen has failed then there is much that will need to be done, and this may be the last time I leisure here in the fields of Thera. If he has not… then this may be of my last days as the princess I grew up as.'

* * *

"This attack was planned," Ouran growls, stomping in a pace across his throne room.

Aden, standing in the corner, looks grim, but not too grim. He would laugh if he were not so concerned. Most attacks were planned.

Several advisors litter the floor, kneeling in obeisance to their king.

"Someone knows. Someone knows she is here."

"The world knows," Aden retorts, his soul twisting in his body at the defiance. The collar around his neck burns painfully. "You told them. You were the one who sent word to Asturia that the Queen was taken. You were the only monarch not in attendance at the celebration. It was only a matter of time before they figured it out."

"You speak when spoken to!" Ouran snaps, hand flying in Aden's direction.

Aden's head snaps to the side, jaw snapping open and shut on his tongue, and he smarts for a long moment, staring at the black draped walls of the throne room as the wave of pain passes over him and he lets it go. Ouran has kept up the hangings of mourning for the late queen, claiming to the people to still be in mourning for his dead wife.

But Aden knows different. Aden knows better. He watched, helpless, when the queen had been killed at Ouran's hands. He tastes blood in his mouth from his tongue. It had nearly killed him to see it done to her, and if it had not been for the collar that hhe wore, even then…

There is the noise of leather straining as those same hands ball in anger. An advisor chances to speak up. "On another note, sire, the troops are in position to invade Zaibach."

Ouran nods, a little mollified at the concept. "Then send word for the attack to begin immediately. And find out who is responsible for that attack… the leader was wearing blue. That must mean something."

In his corner, Aden's lips curl in a smile. He knows exactly what it means that the leader was wearing blue. He had been watching when Ouran had angrily entered the fray and crossed blades with the angry swordsman. And he knew, from the hidden Queen's reaction, that it was a rescue attempt on her.

So it could only be the Queen's Champion.

With a smile on his lips he thinks the name to himself. The polite man who had apologized to his sister. 'Allen Schezar.'

He had managed to slip the knight and his kindred from the castle, unwilling to watch Ouran have them tortured once he had overcome the outnumbered attackers, and had, instead, stripped the bodies of killed castle guards and passed them off into the burn pile with hissing words that the enemy had met their match.

He was unsure, however, how long his trick would work on Ouran, who had been present.

* * *

Jasper sits quietly, watching over his sleeping wife with worried, loving eyes, their child sleeping soundly at its mother's side. Fondly, he thinks that the birth had simply worn the two of them out. "How long will she be like this?" he asks quietly of Nil, who stands, weary, in her customary place at the door.

"I cannot guarantee her life," Nil says, voice weary but much recovered from her exertions previously. She finds it harder to stay as awake as she has, wanting, longing to curl up and sleep as the princess is with her child.

She shakes her head. Jasper's child. Kira's child.

Not her own.

Her own… she closes her eyes. Yes, Selassie is fine. Beautiful, competent Selassie. Her own child.

Jasper restrains himself from snapping that she has to, knowing that if it were in her power, Nil would do just that. "You have been weary lately."

"I have a job to do," the black haired woman says with a stubborn tilt to the lips in her weary face.

"Which you cannot do if you are dead, Nil." Jasper stands, crossing to stand beside her, putting a gentle hand up to turn her shoulder so that she is facing him. The wane sunlight of the season catches his green eyes as he looks down at her, his own dark hair back from his pale forehead. "You have done much already. You were kidnapped, overcome somehow… a thing you will not talk to me about. That frightens me, you know. You always could tell me everything, before."

"There are some things that are not your concern," Nil replies, brown eyes half lidded and looking down. It is just so hard to stay awake… so hard.

"I care about you, Nil. Nileyah. You were my first friend growing up. You have been the only thing protecting me as long as I can remember… even without a father, with a grieving mother… you have always been there for me. Let me be there for you this one time. Let me help."

"It was not so much torture as confinement, Jasper," Nil says, opening her eyes to look honestly up at him.

"But your… hair, your wrists… what…"

"That was an extenuating situation," Nil says. "Other than that I was just chained… and humiliated. I will speak no more on this matter. It is nothing you need to know… Jasper."

Unwillingly, almost, a smile comes to his lips. "You have not called me anything but 'highness' and 'prince' in many months."

Nil offers no reply.

* * *

"The Freidan airship has landed on the hill at the top of the valley, your highness," Peralis says, kneeling before Hitomi in the chapel. The Queen retired there after the interruption to the evening meal when the news had come to them in. "What shall we do?"

She is suddenly a little worried at Van's reaction, a little frightened of what he will say. Merle watches her closely. There is nothing to be done about it now. What has not happened cannot be rushed. The cat woman stands erect, fingers flexing slightly.

Hitomi does not speak to Peralis, instead turning to Merle. She does not know what to say to Peralis… how to make him understand what she knows… or even why she truly wants Van so badly. "Take a squadron of our guard, bearing the Fanelian colors, and ride to meet the airship. You will want to take an extra horse with you."

"Majesty?" Peralis asks, glancing up from his view of the stone floor of the chapel. "Are you so certain it is Lord Van?"

"With all my heart," she replies, turning from the two of them to look at the face of the alter where it rises up towards the top of the chapel. She puts a hand to her stomach. "Please, go bring my husband home to the castle."

Merle smiles, bowing her head sharply and turning as Peralis rises, to head back down towards the castle to collect the men to ride with her.

The chief advisor follows the cat woman as she makes her exit from the chapel. "And you, Lady Merle?" Peralis asks, moving quickly to stay on her heels. "Are you so certain?"

"There is other reason for Freid to send an airship?" Merle asks. "You see another cause for such swift transit to Fanelia?"

Peralis starts to speak, but the older Chief Royal Advisor can find no words to make with his mouth and pauses, allowing Merle to leave him behind, heading down the steps of the walkway with more of a skip in her step.

* * *

"The hour of dinner is passed, is it not?" Arik asks, still anxious at the waiting. Finally, she has begun to pace the small deck of the airship in frustration. It seems like forever since they landed, though she logically knows it cannot have been more than an hour or so. What is taking so long?

"Calm yourself," Van says in a gentle voice, watching as mounted figures make their way up the path towards them. "Our escort is on its way." He turns, a relaxed smile on his face, and disembarks the airship, descending the ramp to stand waiting on the riders with the small knot of Freidan honor guard Chid had sent with them.

Van's heart lifts a little at the waving pink hair of the lead rider as he steps down onto the ground from the gang plank in the waning light of the evening. "Merle," he says in a soft voice as the riders near them.

Arik steps down at his shoulder and braces herself tensely, tightening the hand on the sword at her hip. There is nothing she can really do, given the circumstances, and Van's willingness to present his throat to his own guard for the kill-strike, but if it comes down to someone attacking, she knows, given all the practice fighting she had done in the last week, she will be ready. Swordplay, for someone with her talent and skill, was like riding a horse. Occassionally the horse got a little angry, but most often they were all the same.

"Calm down, Arik," Van says, noticing her discomfort, "You remember Merle."

"This is true. But it feels wrong. This entire procession feels wrong."

Merle rides up to where the two of them had disembarked the ship with the small group of Freidan guards, and dismounts. The group of Fanelian guards pauses just beyond her, not dismounting, but instead sitting stoically on their horses. Merle had warned them that if it were a Doppler, the King would look the same, but truly be a different person.

"Merle," Van says, taking a step towards her.

"Is it really you?" Merle asks in a quiet voice. She glances her bright eyes at Arik and nods to the woman before leveling her gaze once again at Van. Arik will not interfere, she knows, not in this.

"Why would you ask a thing like that?"

"It was a Doppler who helped Millerna get kidnapped," Merle says.

"What does that have to do with me?" Van asks, confused.

"I cannot be sure that you are who you claim to be." Merle slowly draws her sword from her sword belt. Arik holds her breath, waiting for Van's reaction to being challenged. It was an honest question to ask, given the state of things… given that it was likely Aden who… impersonated Millerna.

It would not be so hard for him to impersonate a man like Van.

The king's heart was mostly on his sleeve, since she had seen him without Hitomi nearby. His queen had a way of tempering his kind heart and making it more protective and secretive. She was a good influence on him.

"Merle!" Van snaps.

The guard, still seated on their horses, share tense looks. If it is the king… and he is angry and is proven to be himself… what happens to those who doubted? Lady Merle is beyond reproach, being over-protective is her duty… but just following orders in wartime was often not good enough, some of them have heard.

"The real Lord Van is the only one who has ever beaten me with a sword." Arik's eyes widen at that admission. If Van had beaten Merle with a sword… she thinks back to her sparring with him. He had been evenly matched against her. He was also Draconian. If he had beaten Merle before…

He was likely better than the Kathis sword play altogether.

"And if you are who the Doppler was in Asturia… then I will know you by this." Reaching back, she grabs a second sword that she strapped to her saddle before leaving the castle and tosses it to Van.

"Merle… What's changed?" he asks, catching the sword and gazing at her with confusion in his red brown eyes.

"I am protecting my queen," Merle replies with an intense strength in her pale eyes as she slowly draws her sword. "As I protect my king. And if you really are Lord Van, you will understand why it is so important that I test you now."

It takes a long moment to decide and to swallow the concept, but finally, Van nods and draws the sword he has been given. He nods his head to Merle and the two of them begin to fight.

Arik watches him closely, letting out her held breath, eyes following the same movements that would have disarmed her in the end, had they continued the spar, watching as Van fights much more ferociously than he had when fighting her, and sees the lines of grim determination on both the king and the bodyguard's faces as they dance amid the clash of steel in the lengthening shadows of the evening.

How many times have they done this? Arik wonders to herself as sparks fly from the two swords. How often did sword clatter against sword and the two friends face off in this manner?

None, she figures, like this, however often it was.

Finally, the sword flies from Merle's hand and Van lifts his sword to point at her throat. There is sweat on his brow, matting his dark hair to his forehead, and, just as hers, his breath comes in pants.

In the red glow of the sunset, Van's eyes appear to be ablaze, his complexion more alive and his hair darker, somehow. "Now do you believe me?" Van asks.

Merle bows her head, lowering herself to one knee. The guards, Arik sees, dismount and follow suit. Merle speaks, her shoulders rising and falling with her heavy breathing, but Arik does not care to make out what she says, instead regarding the scene in the glow of the moonlight as the two moons rise over the hills.

_ "Dragons live in the mountains,"_ Haruth had always said to her when she asked about his family and the sister that he had watched walk out of their small village, _"in the land where your aunt has gone to her man. Creatures that know the difference between a soul in peace and a soul in peril. They are what was first created when the Atlanateans came to Gaea. The Dragons were creatures they endowed with their greatest wisdom. And so I do not fear for my sister Varie. She is as safe and as loved there as she would be here."_

There seems, to Arik, to be a rumble from the distance, and she shifts closer to Van. What would the dragons have to say of her soul? Of her heart?

"Get up, Merle," Van says in an almost agitated voice before turning to the Freidan guards. "I could ask for no more from you than a safe journey home. Please send the regard of Fanelia, and the gratitude of its King to your Duke."

The head of the Freidan guard bows his head, and the four sturdy men turn and head silently up the gangplank before Van turns back to the guards, crossing to pass Merle, who stands up slowly, Arik snapping back to attention to follow him as he enters the line of horses and heads towards the back.

"Let's get back to the castle before anything else happens," Van says, putting a foot in the stirrup and leaping astride his dark horse. "I've been long enough from home."

* * *

_A/N: I apologize for the lateness of this particular post. I intended to put it up on Friday, but the real world intruded._


	18. Dubious Returns

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Dubious Returns Part Eighteen   
Series: Vision of Escaflowne   
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

* * *

Rampant Port is windy as Eries is borne up to the landing grounds in the carriage. Dryden she has left in charge of Exeter, and for once, Celena has declined accompanying the princess to greet her brother. That Eries finds odd, but had found no reason to press the younger woman on her motives. Instead, she dressed herself properly for the occasion and was lifted into the royal carriage.

The heavy wooden carriage sways in the wind as it heads up the hills out of the city, and Eries adjusts her hands on her lap. The winds, she thinks to herself, glancing out at the swaying of the trees, are restless.

"Jichia," she says softly, "what are you trying to warn me of now, my Lord?" The only answer there is to her silent prayer is a howl of the wind and a rattle of the hinges of the carriage door.

On the landing grounds, the carriage pulls to one side, and the door is opened by the coachman that had driven her up. Behind the carriage, the guard that accompany her when she leaves the city dismount, and the captain steps forward to kneel, extending a hand to assist her down from the carriage.

Eries does so, eyes trained on the towering figure of _the Crusade _before her. The ship itself bears no marks of attack. But there also does not appear to be any movement from the crew on board. The lift to the deck is lowered, but there is no activity.

The muscles of her back tense in realization as she watches.

"Princess," the captain of the guard says.

"Hail them," Eries says, proud of the lack of a waiver in her voice.

The captain of the guard nods, and two of the guards cross the expanse to approach the ship. Eries crosses her hands in front of her, allowing herself to clench her fingers together, her only outward sign of distress.

It seems that it takes the guards forever to climb into the lift and make it up to the ship. There is a long moment of silence in which Eries holds her breath. Nothing, for a long time, and then, one of the guards returns, heading down the lift, and reports to the captain in hushed tones, bowing.

The captain sends him back to his horse, and he rides off towards the city. "Captain," Eries says, stepping forward. "What has happened?"

"Knight Caeli Schezar and Sea Guardian Gaddes both returned from their mission with heavy wounds. The Sea Guardian recovered enough to make his report, but Sir Schezar has sustained heavy wounds and lost much blood."

There is a shattering feeling in Eries's chest and she sets her jaw, crossing to the lift. The captain of the guard blinks and then jogs to catch up with her stiff stride. "Princess, we have sent back to Palas for a surgeon…"

"I will hear this report with my own ears," she says in a cold voice, glancing at the captain. "Do you fault me for that?"

"O-of course not, Princess," the captain says, offering his arm as they near the lift.

* * *

Hitomi wanted to meet the riders in the courtyard, but Merle and Peralis had both firmly advised against it. If Van had returned, Merle had said in a soft voice, he would wonder at her pregnant state and the entire country did not know about it yet. Better he find out in at least a semi-private setting, where if he exploded in a temper there were fewer to see and hear. Hitomi disagreed, saying it was his right to know, but Peralis had nodded at Merle's assessment, and so Hitomi had capitulated.

The queen, dressed in a loose green dress that still does very well at hiding her swollen stomach, leans back against the throne wearily with the Egzardian king and queen paying their evening respects.

"If your majesty will excuse us," King Benanoir says, bowing his head to Hitomi. "We will retire for the evening."

"By all means. May your repose be peaceful," Hitomi says, again surprised to hear that sort of language of her own mouth.

The King and Queen bow once more, and then Benanoir escorts Inah from the throne room, the guards passing them, Van at the back of them. The doors are barely shut before Van pulls them open again.

Hitomi, sitting dozing on the throne, for a moment thinks that she is dreaming, and then she blinks her eyes and stands on shaky legs.

Van stops, halfway into the room, his heart in his throat. He has not realized how much he truly missed her until the moment his eyes fall upon his wife once more. "Hi-to-mi," he says in a soft voice, his words a bare brush of air past his lips.

"Van," Hitomi replies, tears brimming in her eyes. For a moment, the two of them stand there, staring at one another on the brink of tears, and then Hitomi snaps out of stillness and jogs towards him.

Happily, Van catches her up in his arms, and she buries her face against his chest, sobbing. The dark haired king kisses the top of her head, eyes mostly closed, and strokes her back for a second. His eyes open then, but he says nothing immediately.

Peralis, watching from the corner of the room, thinks the two of them look more their age in that moment, and he is again certain that he has done the proper thing in protecting his King's Queen during his absence.

"We will retire," Van says, hand tightening on the back of her gown.

"Yes," Hitomi says through her tears, fingers clutching his shirt tightly.

* * *

Lying half conscious in the cabin, Allen is dimly aware of the guard that enters the room, the draft of the open door both chilling and welcome. The sweat on his forehead has been there for days, and Gaddes lifts a cup for him to drink more water. It is as Gaddes is setting the cup aside that Allen feels sleep calling him again.

"Princess!" Gaddes says, stiffening as he stands quickly. He had not expected Eries would come aboard to see Allen, given the circumstances. But, as Allen was fond of reminding him, he tended to underestimate her.

"Leave us," Eries says to the captain of the guard, her eyes on Allen and disregarding Gaddes.

"Princess, I should not…"

"That was not a request," Eries says. "It was an order. You will wait outside."

With a surly awkwardness, the captain of the guard bows and steps back out the door, leaving the princess with the two men.

Again the cold air assaults Allen's worn out body.

"How is he?" Eries asks as the door closes, her posture erect and her shoulders set.

"I am no doctor," Gaddes says truthfully. "I have done what I could. I have bandaged his wounds, I have replaced the water he loses by sweating. I do not know enough to do more."

"There is a doctor on the way," Eries says, stepping closer to gaze down at Allen's beautiful face twisted in pain and drenched in sweat.

"It is good to know," Gaddes replies, shifting awkwardly.

"If you are in pain then you should sit down," Eries says. "I do not wish to stand upon ceremony while he is ill."

"And if he weren't?" Gaddes asks. "Then would you?"

"In times of illness, that which is required in health is not always the same." Slowly, Eries steps forward and lowers herself to the low stool that Gaddes was sitting on when she entered.

"So the game continues?" Gaddes asks, forcing his stiff limbs to obey as he crosses around behind Eries and sets a basin of water next to her on the small table beside the bed. Then he steps back, taking a seat on the only other chair in the room.

Eries does not reply to that question, instead she lifts the cloth from Allen's head and dips it in the water before dabbing it gently on his skin and wiping the sweat from his face.

"Will you be staying?" Gaddes tries again.

"The doctor will be here shortly. As soon as he can be moved, Allen will be brought to stay in the palace, where he can be attended constantly." Eries stares with kind eyes at his grimacing face, and moistens her lips with her tongue to hide that her teeth worry over her bottom lip under her veil. She rings out the cloth and replaces it in the water basin.

Gaddes says nothing, offering the water cup to her.

She can just as easily send Allen home and allow Celena to care for him. In Gaddes' mind it is as much as she can do at that moment.

* * *

In his rooms, Van finally loosens his hold on Hitomi enough to meet her eyes sternly. "You're pregnant," he says in a voice that sounds betrayed. She had never given him reason to doubt her fidelity before… but so many months had passed…

And _he_ had not been there.

Hitomi blinks green eyes in confusion at him. "Yes, Van, I am. And it is your child." She sits down on the bed. She had expected many things from him upon his return, tears, hugging…

But not the look in his eyes he favors her with. Not that look.

"I have been away for a while, Hitomi."

Closing her eyes, Hitomi lifts her fingers to her forehead, "And I have not touched a man since the night _before_ our wedding," she snaps.

"The night… before…?"

"Yes," Hitomi says, putting her arms around her stomach. "The night before. In the clearing where Escaflowne rests. Surely you remember?"

Van crosses to her, lifting a hand to her cheek, and brushes her face gently. "Of course I remember…" He lowers himself to kneel before her, meeting her eyes and brushing the tears from them. Slowly he leans forward and presses his face against her stomach. "Has it moved yet?"

Blinking away her tears, Hitomi smiles down at her husband, nodding. "Once or twice… I'm about two-thirds of the way along."

"Does anyone know?" Van asks softly, putting his arms around her waist.

"Merle and Peralis… others may suspect… but I was afraid of that..."

'That they would think what I did,' Van finishes silently to himself. 'It would have been different if I had not been taken on the wedding day.'

"Van… what will we do?" Hitomi asks in a soft voice once she knows his thoughts have run their course.

"I will simply explain the truth to the advisors, and Merle will vouch that you have been chaste in my absence," Van says, settling comfortably against her.

Hitomi relaxes in his grip and puts her arm around his neck.

"It is late," Van says, "and I feel like I've taken forever to get home to you."

"Then let me help you into bed."

* * *

Merle and Arik are left outside.

"Was it a strange trip?"

"I have been from Fanelia to the Compound to Asgardia to Ispano and then back to Gaea and Freid. It has been a long trip. Strange is nothing I would call it so much as long."

"And Tristan?" Merle asks in a tight voice.

"He sent me with Van."

"And you let him?"

"My lord is in his homeland," Arik replies with narrowed eyes. "What more can either you or I ask for?"

"You left the Compound. I am supposed to turn you in as a traitor."

"There are other traitors from our ranks who have done worse than what I did to take Tristan where he wished to go and protected him along the way. I would hope that you would know the difference, Merle."

The cat woman's tail swishes behind her. "Do not lecture me on differences and choices," she snaps. "I know better than you those things."

"Wars come and go," Arik says, straightening her shoulders. "It is the people and the land that remain. And truly it is only the land. Bathed in blood and washed clean by the rain. People are momentary."

Merle narrows her eyes. "I wonder if all deserters get this philosophical."

"I am not a deserter."

"That is for the Council to decide."

"I can do good in the world… in this war and this country, but I will not go back to the Compound to face their justice. If you will not abide my presence, I will go somewhere I can be of use."

"Where would that be? If Tristan-"

"You _will_ refer to him by his title."

"If the High Priest," Merle corrects, unconcerned by the correction and the snarl in Arik's voice, "sent you with Lord Van, he will look for you here when he returns."

With a heavy sigh, Arik turns her broken looking eyes from Merle. "It is more of an if, I am afraid, than a when. Tristan would want me to keep fighting for what he… and I believe in."

"You certainly seem very sure of that."

"If I was not sure of it," Arik says, glancing sidelong at the cat woman with heavy eyes, "I could not go on."

There is silence between them for a long while. "You are comfortable, at least?" Merle asks, her shoulders set. "The clothes that Hitomi had brought for you… the room?"

"More comfortable than I have been in months. Fanelia… strangely feels like home to me."

* * *

Agitated beyond belief, Ouran paces the length of the throne room, his dark cape trailing behind him, Aden's eyes watchful from the corner. "Leave me," the dark king commands, raking a hand through his dark curls and turning towards the side door from the high ceilinged room. He flicks a hand at Aden, "Return to you chambers."

Lowering his head in false obedience, Aden backs towards a different door, having no intention of retiring, leaving the usurper king to his own thoughts as he heads high up into the castle where his own chambers are. The rooms are covered in a film of disuse since the queen passed on, and still have hangings of black over the walls and above the bed. Ouran likes this, because it is more peaceful to him than the soft colors of the decorations lying beneath the mournful hangings.

He sinks down into the chair in front of the dressing mirror, where he had seen his queen wife sit to do her hair so often and again runs his fingers through dark curls. "Mother," he says softly.

The mirror in front of him catches a shaft of light sneaking through the covered windows and flashes brightly, showing no reflection.

"You called?" a low woman's voice says, sounding as though it is a whisper of wind through a graveyard.

"Everything is _not_ going according to plan."

"Things often do not," the woman replies.

"Advise me."


	19. Unspoken Sacrafices

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Unspoken Sacrafices Part Nineteen

Series: Vision of Escaflowne  
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

* * *

It is obvious not long after the child is born and named that the princess, though a strong and protective mother, is in failing health. The midwife is stumped as to how she even survived the birthing, given the complications she had found upon her arrival.

Nileyah takes to staying at the princess's side, leaving Jasper and Emman to take care of the young prince. In a tall chair in the corner of the room she sits with her sword across her lap, letting the sunshine streak past her onto the bed where the princess lays, her brown eyes rarely leaving the princess's prone form.

The servants follow what orders the Kathis's gives without question.

And when the midwife looks at Nileyah's weak form propped defiantly in the chair, she knows why Kira survived the birth, and why the child survived.

All she can do is ease the woman's pain and try to look after the woman who strengthens her lifeline.

The day the princess dies, the entire castle is festooned in black. It is expected for days beforehand, and Kira's room has been swathed in white in preparation. The doctor and the priest are astounded she has lasted as long as she did. The midwife is surprised to find Nileyah still breathing.

The Queen, the Crown Prince, and the Heir are all dressed for the occasion, though the Heir knows nothing of the demise of his mother... or at least he can not have known, being so young.

When the Princess closes her weary eyes for the last time, the Queen holds the Heir, watching, and the Prince holds his wife's chill hand, kneeling on the floor beside his wife's bed. The servants are all as wet-cheeked as the two monarchs, and the wail of the Prince, though unequalled in volume, is not alone in sentiment.

Word passes from the palace to the villages, and there is a day of silence observed for the Princess who had won the heart of their Prince.

Only one figure is notably absent from the mourners in the Princess's chambers... and the procession of her funeral... and the wake in the mausoleum. Nileyah, when the Princess took a turn for the worst, had grown ill enough to be moved from the room by the midwife. As she was being helped into the hallway, she was ordered to bed by the Prince.

"I will not have you dying as well," he snapped at her. "You will go to bed and not get out of it until you can beat _me_!"

Too weak to protest strongly, Nileyah had narrowed her dark ringed eyes and nodded her head weakly. The midwife's lips were pressed tightly in a thin line, wondering why it was only then that he decided to take notice of his guardian's failing health. But she said nothing, and helped the strong woman to her rarely used bed, and watched her sink into it almost as though she were dying as well.

Because of the death of the Princess, no one notices that Nileyah does not leave it during the proceedings. No one but the Queen, who is informed by the midwife. And when Emman finds that his son's guardian is truly ill, she makes similar swift connections between the Princess's dwindling health and the Kathis's illness that the midwife had made.

She alone knows to send the royal doctor to the fallen woman. She alone carries the Heir into the room and sets him in the arms of a serving woman so that the fallen Kathis can see what good she has done. She alone takes the time to speak with Nileyah.

Jasper is simply too caught up in his own grief.

What words he had managed before would be what Nileyah would have to live on for some time.

* * *

Dutifully sponging off Allen's forehead, Celena frowns at her brother. "You should have taken me along," she says, chiding. "These wounds are deep."

"If I needed your advice, dear sister," Allen groans out as he shifts on the soft bed in the room he had been carried to while unconscious, "I would ask for it. As it is... thank you for your care. But I must be getting back on my feet."

"You shouldn't be walking yet," Celena chides, a firm hand pressing him back against the bed as he tries, again, to sit up. "What would Princess Eries say if she saw you up and about?"

"You forget... she was the one who sent me on this mission." Allen knows he is bitter, and needlessly so, but he finds he cannot bring his heart to forgive so easily something he feels could have been avoided.

"_You_ forget she had no choice. And that she was the one who had you ordered to this suite in the palace, and given doctors and servants."

"My lady does provide, does she not?" Allen scowls, forcing himself to sit up past his sister's hand, much to Celena's surprise and anger. He knows Eries does not deserve his scorn in this manner... knows he is being unduly unkind...

The drapes are dark, but drawn, and through the gauzy curtains he can see the unexpected spring snow falling on the city. After his return, as though Jichia were feeling sympathy for the mourning populace, the mountain snows from high above had blown down into Palas, and when Allen woke from slumber for the first time, he had been greeted with the usually temperate city covered in a blanket of snow. The light was stolen by the overcast skies that rained snow down on the capital, and his own energy had gone with it. The gray glow of winter daylight fails to warm the room as much as the fire burning in the hearth. "Has it been so long?" he asks, reclining again at Celena's insisting hands.

"The winter comes upon the city swiftly. I prefer the forests... there the winter is a guest and not an intruder," Celena says. She smiles down at her brother and tucks him in a little bit more, pulling the blankets up over his bandages in an attempt to keep him warm. His fever worries her, as much as his caged anger at being stuck in bed, and the princess who assigned him his mission.

Reaching over to the basin on the bedside table, she wets a cloth and places it on his flush forehead. "If your fever has broken in the morning, I will help you to walk the halls. But if it has not you must stay in bed another day. Your body is trying to heal. You will hurt it if you push it too hard now."

"Yes, mother," Allen says with a smile.

Celena hits his forehead with the washcloth.

* * *

When his grief finally breaks, much time has passed. Jasper is a shadow of the man that he had been when he was married. His child is absent, his wife is dead. Outside winter is upon his country.

He turns to the only other place that is natural.

And it is then that he discovers Nileyah ill and bed ridden.

"I told you, not you too!" he growls at her. His face is more animated than it has been in the months since Kira's death. His feet brace the floor shoulder's distance apart and he balls his fists over where she lays in bed, glaring angrily at her. "You are not allowed to die!"

She coughs in response, but there is a twinkle in her eyes, "Her death hurt you emotionally, I see," her voice is low and throaty, but also weak sounding, "it has hurt me physically. But unlike you," she laughs, managing not to cough this time, "I will be out of this bed and training in the morning."

"You will do no such thing!" Jasper shouts, surprised that he hurts his throat in doing so. He nearly jumps at her on the bed where she lies. "You will stay in bed and get well!"

"Staying in bed does not a well person make, Jasper," Nil replies in a quiet voice, an unsettling intensity in her tone. Dressed in bedclothes, Nil's normally ruddy complexion looks much paler, and her face slightly sunken in the dreary winter light coming in through the tall windows of her small room. "Dawn. In the courtyard. Bring a sword."

Jasper starts to retort again, but Nil catches his eyes, and there is a fire in her brown ones that he cannot brush off so easily, despite her debilitated state. He nods, dumbly.

"And the heir?" Nil asks when he bows his head and looks away from her towards the window. The snow, at least, does not remind him of death.

"The heir?" he asks absently, still staring at the snow littering the landscape just beyond the panes of glass.

"What of your _son_, Orthius?"

"I..."

"_I_ have seen him these past weeks. He grows strong... he will walk soon." Seeing the confused, fallen look on Jasper's face, Nil continues where she would have otherwise stopped. "If you will teach him."

"Of course I will teach him!" Jasper snaps, reanimated by the challenge once more.

The Queen, from the far corner of the room, smiles a little. Her son, while good at handling problems, has occasionally needed a small push in the proper direction. She was always pleased to find that Nileyah cared little for the throne and more for her son's life.

"Good. Now leave me and go play with him. I need to rest so that in the morning I do not accidentally kill you."

* * *

"Left foot, right foot. Take it slowly," Celena chides her brother as the two of them make their way down the hallway slowly and ponderously. As if in defiance of her, Allen's fever was missing when he woke up, and so she is forced to keep her end of the bargain and help him to walk. "Remember what I told you about pushing."

The guards, lining the hallways, do not move from their erect position of lax attention as they pass, but Allen can feel their eyes on the two of them. For once, however, the sun is truly out and the overcast skies hold small peeking pockets of blue amid the gray clouds. He cannot decide whether they are more aimed at himself or at Celena. Glancing at his sister, whose hair has grown long again and is kept pulled back in a carefully bun that does not fail to hide the waves of it, he has an annoying suspicion that they are looking at her and not at him.

He fights down the urge to return to the suite Eries ordered him placed in. No palace guard would dare lay a hand on Celena, even if only because of his wrath afterwards. But right now he happens to appear weak... Allen grits his teeth.

The guards suddenly snap to a more erect stance and Allen looks up, checking both ends of the hallway for who he knows to be approaching.

"Brother, what is–" Celena follows her brother's gaze, and then looks back at him. Both of them seem to be weighing their options as the King and the Princess walk down the hall, flanked by guards and engaged in an animated conversation.

Allen glances around and jerks Celena to the side by the arm she has slung over her shoulders, and the two of them duck into a room on the side of the hall to let the royals passby.

"Brother, what are you doing?" Celena asks in an annoyed whisper as he closes the doors behind them. His burst of strength appears to wear out and she helps him to cross to lean against the wall of the small entrance hallway to the room.

"...the fault lies in the kidnapper, not the rescuer," Eries says as they reach earshot. "If his timing was wrong then perhaps I should not have been so quick to appoint him."

"The advisors are calling for treason charges, _Princess_," Dryden replies in a cold voice. He lacks sympathy or even empathy for Allen's failed mission. It is too close to his heart... it is his wife.

"Then let them. They have not produced any reason to cause such charges. Failure is not treason," she says, blue eyes flashing a little over the top edge of her veil, "it is human."

"Human or not it was the queen he was to rescue," Dryden replies in a cool voice. "My wife. I do not take such failure so lightly."

"In all the years I have known you I have known always of your love of my sister, Dryden. I never thought that love made you foolish enough to condemn an innocent and useful subject." Eries watches her brother-in-law from behind a cool mask of detachment, inwardly wondering how she is going to save Allen if the king and the royal advisors decide he must be executed. Her heart beats more swiftly in her chest and she breathes a little more quickly at the thought of it, but restrains herself from lifting a hand to her heart.

"Perhaps that is why I was not born to this position, then, isn't it?" Dryden's voice lowers a notch and he turns to stare hard at her. "Unless you have some other reason for protecting him?" He has been trying to get an admission of some sort out of one of them for quite some time, and if he must pardon Allen, he feels he should get something from the deal. The truth about the relationship between the two of them seems enough to satisfy him, he thinks, and the advisors will roll over given the proper motivation.

"This is not the place for such a discussion, brother," Eries replies, taking him by the elbow and steering him right towards the room Allen and Celena's are hiding in.

Inside the room, Celena's eyes widen. "Brother," she whispers again, we must remove ourselves," but Allen is catching his breath and does not truly hear her.

"Whatever can be said can be said in this hallway. Are these not our own guards?" Dryden protests.

"If you were thinking correctly then you would realize that discretion is always in order when involving matters of the state. I only began this conversation with you to forestall any hasty actions you were thinking of doing at the end of your walk, brother."

"Fine," Dryden replies, yanking his arm from her hand and stalking over to the door, which the guards on either side of it open before he can reach for the handle. "But you will have to explain some day when it became a matter of state."

Startling awake at the noise of the door, Allen tries to usher Celena onto the balcony, but it is too late. "And here," Dryden says over his shoulder to Eries, "is the man in question himself."

Eries's mouth sets in a firm line and she steps around Dryden. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I have a better question for him," Dryden replies, stepping up to Eries's shoulder. "What happened that made you fail your mission?"

Celena half curtsies to Eries, "Princess, he was restless and so I told him that if his fever broke I would help him take a walk around the halls today."

Dryden scowls at being ignored so easily in the presence of someone truly of Aston blood. Allen remains silent, gazing for a long moment at Eries's veiled face, and then turns to look at Dryden, ready to answer his king's question.

"Carry on then," Eries replies, reaching to take Dryden's arm. "When you are well, Sir Schezar, the King will expect his answer." Dryden starts to protest, but Eries tightens her hand on his arm warningly, turning pale eyes momentarily on him, and he frowns more deeply.

"Yes," Dryden says, agreeing through tight lips. "When you are well again," the King yanks his arm from Eries again and turns to stalk out of the room and back down the hallway.

For a long moment there is silence in the room.

"Thank you, princess," Allen says, lowering his head respectfully in lieu of bowing.

Celena stares for a long moment at Eries and then looks at her brother with an exasperated expression. The Princess sets her shoulders at his respectful nod and says, "We have a conversation that you threatened me with, after all." She turns to leave, again feeling her heart race, though this time at his disapproval of her actions, "Inform me of the progress of his health, please, Lady Celena."

"Yes, Princess," Celena replies, staring at her back.

Allen looks up.

"Good day to you both," Eries says, stepping from the room and into the hallway to follow after Dryden. The guards close the doors behind her, leaving the two Schezars alone in the small drawing room.

"That's all you had to say to her?" Celena snaps. "I'm not surprised she won't talk to you about anything serious."

"What would you have had me say?"

* * *

Peralis watches from the balcony as the King and Queen make slow progress through the courtyard. Van has Hitomi's hand tucked securely in his arm and the two are speaking lowly, or perhaps not at all as they walk through the light dusting of snow on the floor of the courtyard stones. The queen holds herself tightly against his side, her arms wrapped around his, and to the casual observer it looks to be for warmth. But to Peralis's old and wizened eyes, he knows that it is more than that. Since the King's return, the Queen has spent little time not by his side, and when she is not, she is usually sleeping, to the Chief Royal Advisor's knowledge.

That morning Van had stood up at breakfast, from which Hitomi was absent, and announced that there would be a Council meeting.

The Chief Advisor knows what it will be about. He also knows, in the back of his mind, that the question of the baby's father will not be resolved until the child spreads its wings for the first time. He had discussed as much with the queen, but she had said nothing and simply looked longingly out the window at the time, it was before Van had returned to the kingdom.

'Looks will help,' Peralis thinks to himself. 'Looks will indeed help. But Master Folken did not look like either Queen Varie or King Goau.'

It will be, in Peralis's opinion, a curious meeting, to say the least.

In the snowy courtyard, Hitomi leans her head on Van's shoulder. "Are you sure this is for the best?" she asks, closing her eyes halfway.

"You have hidden it long enough," Van replies in a confident voice, one hand stroking the arms wrapped around his. "I am proud of my child, and my wife who carries it. Besides, if we don't announce it and someone finds out who is less than discreet..." Van shakes his head and kisses the top of Hitomi's sandy colored hair. Hitomi turns her face to look at him and he smiles down the few inches he is taller than her and lowers his face to kiss her warmly, despite the cold temperature of the air.

All the veiled animosity of their reunion seems to melt away, Hitomi finds, at the brush of his lips, or the touch of his hand. 'I am lucky afterall,' she thinks to herself, smiling against the kiss. Hitomi shivers a little and leans closer to him. In response, Van puts his cloak over her shoulders on top of her own. "Let's go inside now."

She nods, chuckling softly. "I can only imagine what the Egzardians will think."

Van blinks. "You know... I'd forgotten they were here. I've been so much more concerned with you."

Hitomi feels herself melt, again, at his flattery, and she stands up on the balls of her feet to kiss him on the lips.

Once the two of them pull from the kiss to breathe, Van lifts his eyes to Peralis on the balcony and nods. He holds Hitomi to him with strong arms as he sees his closest advisor leave the balcony overhead, and strokes Hitomi's back. "The Council will be waiting on us. Are you ready?"

* * *

Pacing angrily in his room, which has always been more of a cell than a real room, Aden chafes at the collar on his neck. Since Ouran took over, the seasons of Norte have all become the same, a darkly overcast blackish gray with a moderate but uncomfortable temperature. After all these years it has seeped into the walls and rooms of castle, and invades the feelings of the people as well as their clothing.

But Aden is not concerned with that, he has been a silent witness to the deterioration of the country, and has done, always, what he could to help protect the people from the worst of Ouran's displeasure. Looking back he sees that this has probably been folly. At his Queen's death he should have returned to the Compound and raised notice of Ouran's treachery... or rather his repeated treachery.

'Poor Mistress Mot,' he thinks to himself as he continues to pace, 'you never truly knew what sort of a man you fell in love with.'

Ouran is attacking again, Aden knows. He does not know which kingdom it will be... or if there is any way to warn the people. He had enough advance warning before to make sure that someone in Egzardia knew to evacuate the royal family. But this time...

With a sigh he realizes that there's little chance of warning anyone of what will happen. The world ought to be on the alert in general. There is nothing more he can do on that score. He lifts a hand to the collar around his neck and scowls to himself. Nothing much he can do about that at all. The freedom his sister's presence had brought did not extend so far as that. She was always the stronger of the two of them when it came to magic. He always the follower. He closes his eyes a moment and imagines his sister's placid face. It is much younger than when he last saw her. It is much more bright and hopeful.

He gets a flash of her that he does not expect, fighting against strong magic to recover her health, and he is concerned. His eyes open. One more thing he cannot affect. 'What _can_ I do?' he thinks very quietly, unsure what Ouran can still know of his thoughts and what he does not.

The only thing he can do comes to mind. He leaves his cell of a room and heads down to the secret room to look in on the hidden queen. Stepping into the hallway leading to the secret stairs, the guards start to question him. "You should know better," Aden says, eyes trained on the stones before him as he descends, not stopping long enough to answer.

The guards, unused to hearing the silent man's voice, shy off to the side and ask him nothing more.

In the cellar, Aden steps to the wall and pulls the lever that moves the back set of shelves out of the way and leads to a small staircase heading down to the room Ouran was keeping Millerna.

The blond haired queen does not look very regal in her borrowed cloak and with her arms barely strong enough to lift the shackles from the floor. Her eyes are lowered to the floor in front of her and she does not raise them at the noise of his approach. Since Nileyah's departure, she has eaten little, and lost much hope.

"Millerna," Aden says in a soft voice, kneeling before her to put his eyes on the level with her face. Slowly, the queen lifts her eyes, and Aden is heartened to see the anger and rage stewing in them. "My sister has gone. You have no one to talk to," he says, lifting a hand to brush her hair from her face. "I do not ask that you talk to me, only that you allow me to assist you in maintaining your strength."

Millerna jerks her head from Aden's touch, teeth snapping at the hand that touched her.

"There is nothing to be so angry about. Captivity is better than death, unless I have missed my guess." Aden gazes at her with kind brown eyes. "Your husband will be missing you terribly, I am sure. And your son. Both are fine men."

Silence hangs in the air for a long moment before Millerna finally speaks. "Exeter is only five," Millerna says in a hoarse voice.

"He has good role model." Aden glances back towards the way that he came. "Your husband and Sir Schezar will both do well to show him what it is to truly be a man."


	20. Childish Aggravations

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Childish Aggravations

Series: Vision of Escaflowne

Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

A/N: _Thank you guys for being so patient. I've been editing the chapters more as we head towards the end of this book, and what with graduation, it's been a little hectic. Enjoy!_

* * *

"I have an announcement," Van says, seated tall in the high backed royal chair in the council room. He glances over at Hitomi who sits to his right, dressed in the formal clothing made by the seamstresses. His eyes soften as he looks at her and a smile comes to his lips. He says in a proud voice, "The queen and I are expecting."

There are murmurs among the advisors, Peralis among them. The three had discussed how his reaction must look, and after spending the night practicing in the mirror the chief royal advisor knows his expression is flawless. "Highness..." Peralis begins, standing and worrying over his bottom lip as he speaks. "It is early for you to know such things... you only recently returned..."

"Hitomi has been pregnant since our wedding," Van says, dangerous red eyes narrowed at Peralis.

Van reaches over to take Hitomi's hand comfortingly, and the sandy haired queen holds her breath, waiting for the rest of the advisors to close in on her about her 'state'. Peralis had spoken harshly with her about it, preparing her. It was not an experience she cared to repeat, but, as Van had consoled her, in this case there was nothing to do but endure. Knowing all this, Hitomi's expression remains passive, and she smiles as she looks over at Van. Her heart beats quickly in her chest, and she feels the uncertainty threatening to claim her, but his red eyes are steady, and his strong hand is warm in hers.

Lord Brett stands. "Highness, no disrespect, but if she was pregnant at your wedding, just whose child is she carrying?" To his side, Foreign Minister Gabriel smiles slyly.

There is a hushed murmur at that question. Disbelief, shock... incredulity at the audacity of Brett's question. It becomes more obvious, in that instant, how much Brett dislikes the queen. In the months since Van's disappearance, he has made less obvious attacks on her reign. He started the questioning into the allegiance with Asturia. He turned his nose at her acceptance of the Egzardian nobles.

Van grits his teeth, watching as Hitomi turns her head to gaze intently at the standing man. Her face is relaxed, the strength of the him buoying her through their clasped hands. Her jade eyes blaze with anger and intense dislike. He is glad, in that moment, not to have her looking at him like that again, as she had occassionaly during the war.

Brett shrinks visibly before the king even speaks.

"Mine," Van growls, finding his voice as he watches the ill-appointed advisor cower before his wife.

"But logically, highness," Brett continues in a lower voice, one meeker than he is known for, "if you will permit me my logic, you disappeared just after the ceremony, in the heat of battle... if reports serve, you were bleeding, and protecting our queen. When, then, did you have time to..." It is one thing for Brett to stand up to a foreigner made queen, and another to risk the wrath of the dragon born monarch himself.

"Weddings are for intent," Van says, squeezing Hitomi's hand with a smile. The queen remains stoic, glaring at Brett, until he finishes his words, "Weddings are for the country, and for show."

The spell of her detachment breaks at hearing Van's words and Hitomi blushes, turning green eyes on her husband, gaze breaking and softening as she looks over at him. "Van," she says, cheeks flushing in slight embaressment.

"Besides," Van says, lifting Hitomi's hand to kiss her fingers lingeringly, red eyes gazing over their clasped hands at Brett, "you're the last person here who can lecture me on waiting for a wedding ring."

Lord Brett starts to speak and then thinks better of it, glancing at the look his king is favoring his queen with, and then down at the wedding ring on his own finger. It is a well-known secret among that his own first born is older than his ring.

"Van!" Hitomi says, chidingly as her cheeks darken and she turns her face from him. The two of them had not discussed what Van would say in order to convince the advisors. Reasonably, a part of her mind says, the men would all understand this explanation... But it is a little embarrassing to have them all hear it put this way.

Peralis lets out a mortified chuckle. "Highness," he says, clearing his throat, "I should have hoped you would show more restraint in a delicate matter such as this."

Hitomi looks at the chief advisor and frowns, a cloud covering her embaressment upon hearing his words. 'Was he in on this as well?' she thinks to herself, angry at him as well suddenly. Peralis takes a long pause as her eyes rest on him.

Brushing Hitomi's clasped hand against his cheek, Van makes no response to that statement, choosing, instead, to press onward. "Are there any other thoughts on my wife's pregnancy?" Van asks, carefully articulating his words. From beneath his dark bangs he glances around the circle of the advisors.

No one lifts their voice or opens their mouth, cowed by their king's certainty and the queen's angry glare, whether they believe or not. The mortification of the queen is enough to quell suspicions for the time being. More will come to light, they know, when the child is born.

"Good," Van says. "Then there will be a formal announcement of it on the Longest Night. No one is to speak of this subject until then."

Hitomi glances at Van questioningly, but his dark ruby eyes are trained on the advisors. There is a murmur of acceptance, in which Brett whispers to the man on his left, "I doubt the child is his."

Hitomi's head snaps around, her gaze landing on the advisor in question, and she narrows her eyes at Brett.

Gabriel shrugs and pulls his arm away. He knows better than to be so obvious about his displeasure with the queen, or with her delicate state... so long as she maintains the king's favor.

* * *

"What news?" Chid asks, yawning. The prior evening had started the Freidan winter festival. Three weeks of worship that end every evening in a long banquet of nobles and peasants praising the gods, toasting the worship with spirits and overly rich food, including long dances meant to induce meditative trance.

All of which Chid is required to preside over.

The morning audiences are brutal on the young man.

Fariah, at his shoulder, does not likewise appear fatigued. It disgruntles Chid, who knows it is because she is not required to salute all the gods of Freid with wine, or eat some of every course of the banquet provided.

"Little, my Duke," the chief advisor says, forehead bowed low to the ground. "The country celebrates. Extra guards have been posted on the passes of the borders so that if an attack comes during our most holy time of the season we will be prepared to defend our country."

Chid glances over his shoulder at Fariah. It is not in his nature to think of such things as defense from invasion. The soldiers are somewhat more accustomed to being allowed to join in the festivities than being on the cold mountain borders. It was truly her idea to take such steps, her paranoia. 'My guard dog serves me well,' Chid thinks to himself, frowning internally at the uncharitable description of the young woman who has done nothing but protect and serve him. The wine, perhaps, or lack of sleep, he decides, is the cause.

Idly he wonders how his father managed to stay so trim despite all of the festivals and banquets that come with being a duke in a land of so much ceremony. "Then let us adjourn this meeting early."

The rest of the assembly bows their foreheads to the carpeted stone before them, and Chid rises, heading out the side exit of the assembly room with Fariah following close behind him.

"It's unnecessary, all these precautions," Chid says, still feeling irritable and tired. His body is slower to react than normal, his limbs lethargic. He does not want to admit his deficiency to her, but is aware that he will be little help if they are attacked. As, he thinks, is his right.

"Your military advisors did not think so," Fariah says. "And neither did you when you were of your unclouded mind. Norte is a threat, my Duke, one that should not be lightly ignored. The gods would surely frown on Freid if it fell to the enemy."

Rolling his eyes, Chid heads for his chambers.

"You are going to practice," Fariah says in a stern voice.

"I am going to sleep."

"Lethargy is no excuse for inept swordsmanship. If you are to be any use to yourself in the case of an invasion, you need to be able to fight in any physical state." She steps in front of him, blocking his passage towards his chambers.

Around them, the hush of the daily fasting and meditative prayer fills the air, echoing off the carved stone of the high ceilings in the palace hallways. Chid is struck, momentarily, by how much Fariah looks at home, and at one with the environment.

Since coming to Freid, wearing worn out boots and with her hair slightly disshevled from the long travel, she has grown quickly accustomed to life in his palace, he thinks. The burnt tan of her cheeks has faded into a pleasantly dark complexion. Someone, likely one of the palace seamstresses or tailors, has thought to change her clothing to the colors of Freid, a black jacket lined in red trim. The red, he notices, does not exactly meet Freidan standards, but also does not clash with her hair. She still wears the dark gray leggings she came to Freid in, and has yet to acquire new boots.

He shakes his head to clear it of such trivial thoughts, returning to the discussion at hand.

"That's what you're for," Chid says in a whining voice. "You are my guardian. You protect me. It is only for a week of this festival. I will train afterwards, harder than before."

"Perhaps. However, if we are surrounded, there is little I can do that would not be done better if you were likewise fighting." Fariah again feels almost mothering to the young duke, and resents him a little for it.

About to protest, Chid closes his lips on his words, swallowing another yawn. He thinks of his uncharitable words, and all her help. "Lead the way," he says in an annoyed, sleepy tone. "Kiyo will be overjoyed. And the sooner we are finished practicing, the sooner I can sleep."

Fariah nods, and the two of them redirect their walking path to head towards the practice grounds.

"That jacket," Chid says, letting his mind wander again. "Where did it come from?"

"This is is the uniform given to the Freidan Kathis by the first duke to receive one," Fariah says, keeping her head looking straight in the direction they are walking. "When it was obvious to Umal that I would not be leaving your highness, he had this given to me."

"The last Kathis died," Chid says as the two of them head up the stairs towards the grassy square of the practice grounds. "Kiyo speaks of her, occasionally."

"She died at your father's side," Fariah replies, "In the battle with Zaibach. Malihsoren."

"I did not know her name," Chid says, looking at his Kathis closely. "Did you know her?"

"I am not old enough to have known Malihsoren. She was placed in Freid when Mahad married Marlene, just after I was born."

"Then how do you know so much about her?" Chid asks, stopping on the top step and turning fully to face Fariah. "You speak as though you do."

"We are all aware of each other," Fariah says, nodding to Kiyo as he steps from the armory to bring swords to them. "And all Kathis know that a post in Freid is one short-lived."

Chid frowns. "You said it was an honor."

"An assignment is an honor," Fariah says, stepping onto the slightly damp grass in the morning sunlight. "Years of training and dedication are required to gain a position anywhere. A posting with a protectorate is an honor. I consider myself to have been honored to be sent to you, Duke Chid. An honor to serve Freid."

Sapphire blue eyes narrow. "But you don't expect to live very long, do you?"

"I have more hopes of that than some," Fariah replies, gray eyes smiling as she turns to look at him. Kiyo steps out with two practice swords, and offers them to her. She nods her head in a respectful bow to the swordmaster, and takes them, stepping over to offer one to Chid.

"What's different about me?"

"Everyone is an individual, my duke," Fariah says. "Monarch or bodyguard."

* * *

Ilraine lifts her aged eyelids and looks at the fire across the room from her. Outside the large windows, the clouds perpetually surrounding the Bikathian Compound swirl in idle grays reminiscent of her eyes. There is a knock on the door, and she calls to allow entrance.

Mistress Mot steps into the room and lowers herself to one knee. "You sent for me, High Bikathian?"

"You have made it obvious your opinion on the matter in Norte," Ilraine says, settling two hands over her stomach. "Your opinion of Aerik, and your disapproval of your daughter's choices."

"She should have remained at the Compound and fulfilled her duties."

"As you would have done?" Ilraine asks, turning steely eyes on her seventh daughter. "As you _did_ do?"

"The circumstances were different... Ouran-"

"Was your failing," Ilraine interrupts the gray haired woman standing before her, turning her silver eyes back to the fire before her. "Tristan is not Aerik's failing. Tristan is also not the end of Aerik's story," the high elf says. "You will disapprove of what I will say to you next."

"My lady-" Mot begins, only to be cut off again.

"Sotet will return to Norte, at his father's request. He will be the Consortium's eyes and ears within the palace. He will make a final judgement on the life of Aden Calipse. And he will go alone."

The normally cool and collected demeanor of Mot's placid face cracks and her expression grows livid. "He is not ready."

"He is older than others who have been sent out on more important duties," Ilraine says. "You protecting the usurper's son does not make him less the man's son, Mot."

"We of the Consortium have no lives but these," Mot replies, turning to look at the fire. "We are of no past, and have nothing but our duty."

"As you have tried and tried to tell these girls, to enforce upon these boys. It does little good to lie to children, Mot Ar'sen," Ilraine says. "I did not lie to you when you were growing. I spoke of the wide world and the things that were out there."

"And I fell in love with them," Mot replies, coldly. "I fell in love with the idea of princes and romance, and candle light, and it burned me."

Ilraine moistens her lips, shaking her head slightly, the long fall of her white hair shifting against the shoulders of her gown. "Life burns, child. It tortures and it twists. It hurts to be alive, to carry life within your breast, or life within your belly. If I spared you any of the world it was that."

"And I hate you for it," Mot says, closing her eyes against the truthful words from the aged woman behind her. "I hate you."

"The life of an elf is very long," Ilraine replies, "many have hated me, and many more shall, I suspect. Right now you have made your daughter hate you," she turned her silver eyes to her daughter's back. "And all she has done is make the proper choice."

"The proper choice being abandoning the Consortium?" Mot says in a clipped voice.

"The proper choice being doing good," she replies. "But it is obvious that you can see little of that, now."

* * *

Arik sits in the front of the chapel, staring up at the image of the dragon god on the wall above the alter. Her mind is numb, and her thoughts reach out to Tristan. 'Van is safe,' she thinks to him. 'I hope you are the same. Fariah thinks I have betrayed my people, as such they are, in bringing Van this far... in doing your bidding. But Fariah is so young, I cannot be sure that she is altogether correct.' She laughs to herself, eyes trained on the dragon god image on the wall. 'But I cannot either say she is correct.'

She is so caught up in her thoughts that she does not hear the doors open. Arik does not look up until Hitomi sits in the pew across the aisle from her. "When Van was missing, I spent quite a bit of time in here myself. I can only imagine what it must be like for you not knowing where Tristan is... if he's all right... if he's in danger."

"Tristan is in danger," Arik says, "of that much I am sure."

"Where is he?"

"The Ispano Gap," Arik replies. "Working to save his people."

"You must be proud," Hitomi offers, knowing that is not how she would feel, given the circumstances. If the situation were turned, _when_ it was turned...

"What brings you back, your majesty?"

"Don't call me that," Hitomi says. "Everyone here calls me that. 'Your highness', 'your majesty', I'm just a woman, I'm not a queen."

"You are, to them," Arik says, "and to him. But what brings you back?"

"Van had to say some things about my pregnancy, some things... that made me a little uncomfortable."

"A little uncomfortable? You sound a little bit upset, rather than uncomfortable."

"I walked out of the dining room when no one could explain where you were. I used it as an excuse to leave because I need to get away from him for a little bit... I was so... angry with him that I couldn't sit beside him."

"But he supported you?" Arik aks.

"Yes," Hitomi replies. "And I know, it's not that big of a deal but-"

"It is to you," Arik replies. "Not every fight should be disregarded. I wouldn't destroy your marriage about it."

Hitomi doesn't respond for a long moment, looking up at the flying dragon emblazoned on the wall overhead.

"Marriage shouldn't be that easy to throw away."

Hitomi stands, the new clothing falling around her as she does so, the colors of the skirts catching in the candlelight always present in the chapel. "It's not," she says, turning and offering Arik a smile. "You haven't eaten, have you? I'll send Merle with some food to your room later. I must get to dinner, myself."

"Thank you, your majesty."

* * *

"So how is he?" Eries asks Celena as the younger woman sits brushing out her long hair. The mornings are her time alone, away from the advisors and the prying eyes of the servants and the guards of the castle. But she cannot escape dressing for the day, and she finds that Celena is the most quiet of her ladies in waiting to have help her dress and ready for the day. So, more often than not, her mornings are spent in quiet with her would be sister.

The intrusion is welcome, however, because her almost sister-in-law has information that puts her mind at ease. Deep in the bottom of her own mind, Eries blames herself for both the failure of the attack, the casualties to the crew of _the Crusade_, and most of all Allen's serious injuries. She sits in her dressing gown, corset loose on her torso, waiting only to be done up properly. In the corner of the room, on a stand held by a hangar is her dark gray dress that she plans to wear during the day.

"He is brooding," Celena says, brushing the princess's hair carefully. She focuses on the soothing motion of her hands. If she could have her way, she would be at her brother's side. At the same time, she doesn't trust the other ladies in waiting with the princess. They have callous demeanours and careless mouths that she has been helping to shield the refined woman from. "Will you take it up or down today?"

"Down," Eries says, looking at her reflection in the mirror intently. Her own pale face looks back at her, severe in the soft morning light coming in through the gauze covered windows of her chambers. "Brooding about what?"

"He blames you, vocally," Celena says, trying to be delicate with her words where others might not be. "But I think it is himself that he blames on the inside. He stares for long periods of time out the window towards the courtyard or the harbor, and is deep in thought."

"I can imagine," Eries says. She glances over her shoulder, voice becoming careful and restrained. "He has every right to be angry with me. I assigned him the duty of retrieving Millerna. We did not know enough about what he would be walking into, but I gave him the assignment anyway."

"Someone had to go, highness," Celena replies.

Eries takes a moment to collect herself and then nods fractionally, and changes the subject. "Has he said anything to you about your memories?"

"He avoids speaking to me about that more than he avoids speaking to you of your betrothal." Celena curls her hair slightly at the end, attaching small rollers to it, and moves to tighten her corset.

Eries readjusts herself, putting hands on the mirrored bureau to brace herself as Celena takes the laces of the corset in her hands. "That is my own fault. This is not yours."

Celena frowns, meeting Eries's eyes in the mirror, and pulls the strings tightly into place, cinching the corset around the princess's already slender torso. "You should not say things like that about yourself, princess."

"But what if they are true?" Eries asks softly, looking down at the top of the vanity in front of them. "I sent him to Norte," she manages to get out as she sucks in her breath.

"He chose when and with who," Celena says, tying off the first set of laces and moving to do the same to the laces on the other side of the princess's body. "Those things were out of your control. If you feel you must blame yourself then you must admit that you share the blame with him."

Eries smiles a little pinchedly as the second set of laces are pulled secure and fastened. "Your memories..." she asks as she adjusts her breathing to the confines of the corset, "if you could do anything, what would you do?"

Celena takes a long moment to think about that, stepping away from the princess to prepare Eries's dress as the princess rises slowly and follows her over. "I... would... train," she says finally, picking the dress off the hangar and parting it so that she can get into it.

"Train?" Eries asks as she slides into the dress, fixing the bodice while Celena adjusts the skirts around her waist.

"Swordplay, from what I can tell, is a skill in me. It is not a talent." Celena says as she stands and laces up the back of the bodice, pulling the strings tight. "And you have to practice a skill to be good at it. I am six years out of practice."

"Why would you practice?"

Celena gathers the fuller skirt that goes under the dress and pulls it up before she fastens it at the princess's waist and says softly, "Jichia does not give us that which we do not need. If he has returned my memories of my dark time then there is a reason for me to have them." With a deft jerk of her hands, Celena drops the skirts into place and they fall, barely dusting the floor.

"That is one way to look at the situation," Eries says, settling her hair about her shoulders. Celena leans up slightly to affix her veil over her face.

"Why do you wear the veil, princess?"

"It is customary for those who are not free to be seen to cover themselves in this manner, among the noble class." Eries looks at herself in the mirror, the slight makeup and the straight fall of her hair. It has never curled in the manner of her sisters'. "Being betrothed, and chaste means that I must cover my face."

"You have worn it for a long time then? I vaguely remember you wore that... even when we were both children."

"I have worn it since the day that our parents made the deal that bound us in the eyes of Jichia's priestesses," Eries replies, straightening it and attaching her earrings. "And will continue to wear it until my situation changes, most likely back in Tuloom."

* * *

That evening when they retire, Van is unsurprised that Hitomi loosens her gown and gets straight into bed still wearing the shift that she wore underneath, turning her back to him and pulling the covers up to her chin. "Angry, I take it?" he asks in a gentle voice, heading over to change into his nightclothes more properly.

"What was your first clue?" Hitomi asks, settling against the pillow.

Slipping his shirt off and climbing into the bed, Van shifts over towards her. "The blush on your cheeks in the council room," he says softly, putting an arm around her waist and scooting close enough to draw her gently against his chest.

"I'm mad at you," Hitomi says, mindful of her conversation with Arik in the chapel. Mindful of the long hours she spent there praying for his return.

"I know," Van says, resting his chin against the crown of her head.

"So why are you curling up around me?"

"Because I've been gone a long time," Van replies, kissing her hair. "And you're my wife."

"And this makes you think you're entitled to cuddling with me when I'm angry?"

"Hitomi," Van says in a soft chiding voice. "I wanted them not to attack you about this." His hand strays to her rounded belly. "I want our child not to grow up questioning who his father is."

"Our child will know," she says. "And it could be a girl," she finishes in a quiet voice.

"Or her," he corrects. "But you see my point, right?"

With a sigh, Hitomi snuggles back against him. "It doesn't mean I have to like it."

Van arches a brow playfully. "You don't like me holding you?"

"That's not what I meant."

"It's what you said."

"No it's not," Hitomi says. "Give the pregnant woman a break. Aren't I allowed to have mood swings?"

"Have you started having cravings yet?"

She rolls her eyes.

"That's normal, isn't it?"

"I'm going to sleep now, Van."


	21. Curious Stratagems

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Curious Strategems

Series: Vision of Escaflowne

Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

A/N: _Again,_ _thank you guys for being so patient. Life will always be life, I guess. You have your encouraging reviews, and a friend of mine named Morgan to thank for this chapter getting posted tonight. I have a rather full weekend ahead of me._

* * *

Sotet stands quietly as his mother packs the bag that is being sent with him. Back to Norte. Back to his father. For quite some time, his mother has been trying to pack the bag, but she keeps changing the contents, making him change clothes… 

"Enough, mother." Sotet sets his face. "I can pack my own bag. I can make my own way. Since I was little you have cared for me, more than other Kathis mothers, watched out for me, more than other Kathis mothers, and prevented me from doing my duty to the Consortium. I am a nobleman's son, yes, but I am not made of glass. I am not as fragile as you make me out to be. I am your son, but I am also his. Am I such a disappointment to you that you refuse to let me do the work I inherited from you?"

"You have never been a disappointment to me," Mot says, lowering her hands weakly to her sides and sinking down on his bed. "I have been the proudest mother I could be, of you, given the circumstances. I was not allowed to be a true mother to you."

"No Kathis is allowed to be a normal mother," Sotet replies, turning to look out the window at the sky surrounding the Compound, his own dark eyes troubled. "I have known this and have not asked it of you that you be someone else's mother. What I am saying is that you seem not to have been mine."

Mot balls her fists as she hears these words, and sets her jaw. Sotet looks back over his shoulder at her, "Who, for instance, is my sibling? Or siblings? The Calipse twins? Or perhaps-"

A fist flies, stricking the tall young man across the jaw. Sotet's head snaps to the side and he blinks.

"Never, ever disrespect me," Mot says with narrowed eyes.

"Mother… mother why?"

"You said you wanted me to be as other Kathis mothers are to their children," Mot says, her anger causing her slender shoulders to shake with repressed rage. "Your sister learned the hard way not to vex me. You will learn the same."

Sotet offers no reply, and there is silence in the small private room the two of them share. He turns back to the window, and she turns to gaze at the fire. "Pack your bags and meet me in the main hall," Mot says, heading for the door after the silence has gone from pregnant to uncomfortable.

"Yes, mistress," Sotet says in a bitter voice. 'Now,' he thinks to himself. 'Now when I do not need it I get what I want. Now, when I do not want it.' The door closes behind his mother and he recalls the words of the only other Kathis he ever took advice from.

'Things rarely turn out how we want, when we want.'

With a snort, he begins packing.

* * *

In the morning, Van tries his best to avoid being woken by the light of the rising sun, and fails. Something that Hitomi does not fail. Chuckling to himself, he decides to let her sleep, gently stroking his hand on her swollen stomach thoughtfully. 

The show for the advisors the previous day was one thing. The people will be less easily fooled. Glancing at Hitomi's face, he smiles. Unlike his own mother, he doubts that their first child will look too far from either of them. She shifts, turning her cheek towards him, and Van obliges the sleepy request by kissing her.

With a contented murmur, Hitomi settles against the bed, one arm bending to cover his that is around her.

Van glances out the window. Winter is sitting outside and staring at them. It is much later than normal. 'I should get up and go to see the Egzardians,' Van thinks to himself. He looks down at Hitomi and the hand that has threaded fingers through his own.

'She will be angry again,' he concludes. Kissing her cheek again, lingeringly, he nonetheless slips his hand from Hitomi's and gently pulls away from her to slip into the bathing room.

Thankfully, he breathes a sigh of relief, Hitomi turns on her back and sprawls across the bed. 'Apparently this is a part of pregnancy as well,' Van thinks with a chuckle. 'I wonder how late she will sleep if I let her.'

He heads into the bathing room and strips out of his clothes, pulling the chord to let the warm water into the tub and slipping into it with a sigh. The sword wounds from the wedding have healed, but still ache in the cold, as the ones from the last war, but only ever in the chill of winter. His body relaxes in a different way from the prior evening, but he forces himself not to linger in the balmy water.

He climbs out and dries off, heading quietly into the bedroom and changing into his own clothes before slipping out. Making his way to the outer room, Van finds Merle seated and waiting.

"Where's Hitomi?" Merle asks, leisurely eating a light breakfast of her own. There are two other plates set out.

"Hasn't she been eating in the dining room?"

Merle shakes her head. "It's hard to disguise that you have no appetite and you can't keep your food down if there's nobles expecting polite conversation, Lord Van." She offers him a piece of fruit.

"When will the Egzardians be eating?" Van asks, sitting down and taking the fruit from her to eat it. Surprisingly it is fresh, and moist. "And where did this come from?"

"The treaty with Asturia involves trade. I made certain to secure some of the things that will do Hitomi well during the duration of her pregnancy."

"I'm eating pregnant woman food?" Van asks, taking another bite of the fruit.

"I suppose," Merle grins. "We have to watch diet. I am a little disturbed that you are waiting so long to announce her pregnancy. I would like to get her into the care of a midwife."

"Is there no one you can trust not to talk about it?"

"Austa could probably give the proper care to her… now that you mention it."

Van eats the end of the fruit thoughtfully.

"I will have her brought to the castle again… this evening while everyone else is at supper I will fetch her myself. The Egzardians normally eat about mid-morning. It is a custom in their land that the time before the sun is fully risen is spent in fasting." Merle shrugs, her bright hair slipping over her shoulders.

"Is Hitomi keeping her food down now?" Van asks.

"For the most part."

"If she can this morning, I would like her to join me in eating with the Egzardians."

"They have been most kind to her."

Van arches a brow. "What do you mean, most kind?"

"I have a feeling that Queen Inah suspects she is pregnant. It is a good thing for you that there are not Fanelian noble women in the castle that have bourn children before. It is not easy to hide six cycles of a growing child from experienced eyes. And Hitomi will only get larger from this point onwards."

Van taps his lower lip. "So they know…"

"Most likely," Merle says.

"Where is Arik?" Van asks, glancing around the room. It felt strange, suddenly, not to have the woman who had been shadowing him for his weeks in Freid waiting for him in the morning.

"Grieving," Merle says in a soft, condescending voice.

* * *

Gaddes steps into Allen's room in the palace and whistles. The room is spacious, and on one of the upper floors of the palace. It has a view on three of the walls of the city and the harbor surrounding the palace. A far cry from the knights' quarters he had before, or even from the Senior Knight's and the Champion's rooms. "Woah. Nice." 

"I would prefer not to be reminded of the surroundings," Allen says in an uncomfortable tone from his reclining position in the enormous bed. He has not realized the size change from his previous quarters. Celena makes it seem much more natural to have a room of this size than his childhood friend.

Regarding his friend's face, Gaddes sees what the rooms say to Allen. 'This is nobility to Allen,' Gaddes thinks. 'Even the highest honors he has achieved are not the same as those of the nobles. But these are obviously upper nobles quarters, if not royals' rooms.' He clears his throat, "She said she would take care of you. I just didn't know she meant something this… extravagant. Did she assign you servants?"

"Gaddes," Allen says warningly, turning to look the windows on the opposite side of the room.

"She did then." Gaddes smiles to himself, stepping over to draw the guaze curtains across the windows. "Did you decide how you would approach her about it?"

"We've had this discussion," Allen says, puzzled at his friend's behavior. "And I still have the same answer. She does not want to be approached."

"Then you're going about it the wrong way." The taller man stops his work, folds his arms on his chest and crosses to sit in Celena's vacant chair beside the bed. "Eries-"

"You _will_ use her proper title," Allen snarls.

Gaddes lifts his hands. "The princess," he starts again, "isn't like the other women you've known." Allen looks at him pointedly. "Princess Eries is not even like her sisters," Gaddes says. "And you know that. You always have. It's why you didn't go after her when we were younger."

"I was confused," Allen says in a huffy voice. "And we were different, back then."

"Maybe you were." Gaddes chuckles. "Well at least now I know you're nearly well. For a while I thought you might actually be ill still. Now. Get your ass out of bed. You've got a meeting to get to."

"I do not."

"Why do you think I'm here? Celena is dressing the princess. She's deemed you well enough. I'm supposed to get you ready. We're reporting to the council today."

Allen starts to retort, but Gaddes lifts a hand.

"The princess wasn't informed of this, and we're officially not supposed to even see her until you're done with this. She won't even be at the meeting. Dryden called it."

"Refer to him with respect as well," Allen responds, throwing back the covers and making his way to his feet a little shakily.

"Why should I?" Gaddes asks, rising. "I never have before. Are your clothes in here?"

"In the wardrobe," Allen says, crossing to brush out his hair swiftly.

* * *

Jasper holds up his hands and Emman sets the young child on his feet. Shakily, the heir takes a step towards his father. On the side of the room, Nil watches with cautious brown eyes. Winter in Cesario means that the passes are frozen and the only attack can be from the air. The walking six month old will mean nothing but another body to chase around the castle. 

But it is not nearly as much winter as she would like.

She turns her brown eyes out the window and glances at the melting snows. Other parts of Gaea will still be wrapped in snow and ice, she knows, but if someone had forces close enough…

"Nil."

Turning her head to look at Jasper, he points at the young child who has chosen to walk towards the stoic bodyguard instead of his father, and is holding onto her boot.

A small smile curves Nil's lips and she lowers herself to her free knee and brushes a hand against the heir's cheek. The young prince blinks eyes that look just like his mother's at her and gurgles a smile. Nil kisses his forehead and turns him around again to face Jasper, who is much closer to her than he was to Emman.

"Walk to your father, young heir," Nil says softly in his ear before patting the heir's rear and releasing him from her gloved hands. Perhaps another body around the castle, but a welcome one.

Emman watches the guardian with careful eyes.

Since Jasper was young, Nileyah has appeared to age little.

Since Jasper was young, Nileyah has grown little.

What sort of a creature had the Kathis sent to Cesario to be guardian of the prince? What sort of a woman aged that slowly and that well?

The Queen covers her mouth as she feels a cough coming on, and tilts her head towards the ceiling, eyes closing. 'If my time is up, only make them happy,' she prays fervently. 'See my son well on his throne… see my grandson grow up… and wipe the sorrow from her eyes.'

* * *

Eries searches the castle in frustration, but can find neither Dryden nor Allen. Hours later, after lunch and near dinnertime, once she has gone to the last place she can think to look when she comes across the guarded council meeting room. As she starts to enter, the guards cross their axes before her. 

"We have orders from the king to let no one enter these rooms."

"I do not care to understand that. You will let me pass or I will have your posts," Eries says, all her royal might wrapped securely around her shoulders like a piece of fabric.

The guards do not move.

Eries narrows her blue eyes at them.

There is a silent battle of wills then, and both guards turn their faces front. Eries reaches a hand towards the door knob, and the guard on the left side of the door swings his axe towards her in a swift, warning gesture, thinking that she will move out of the way in time. He does not count on the royal arrogance. He does not know the royal family well, having been hired since the queen's abduction.

It is not until she collapses that he realizes what harm he has done. And then he sinks to his knees beside her, numb as his partner shouts for help. His hands fumble to reach for her wound, but he is shouldered aside by his partner, a much more veteran guard, but who was not given command of the door for reasons of practice.

* * *

Van heads into the dining hall and is unsurprised to find the nobles and the royals from Egzardia standing next to their chairs. Hitomi had risen shortly before, and upon trying the fruit laid out in the antechamber of the royal rooms, she had deemed herself fit enough to take breakfast in public that morning. 

So Van had helped her into the tub and watched over her as she bathed, and then his careful eyes watched as Merle and the knowledgeable lady-in-waiting had dressed her meticulously in a gown that hid the curve of her stomach.

"Do I pass inspection?" Hitomi had asked, turning in the gown for him.

"Always," Van replied, reaching a hand out to brush her cheek. "But we mustn't be late to breakfast or people will start talking."

"They are already talking," Hitomi said. "I have not been to breakfast in months. I have been praying in the chapel instead." Blinking, Van left it at that and tucked her arm through his to head to breakfast.

Glancing around at the curious faces, he sees why she did not go to breakfast. Hitomi's face, however, never falters from the smile she puts on her lips as she greets all the gathered men and women personally. How she had time to learn all their names…

It had felt long enough to his heart… but had seemed only weeks.

Arriving at the head of the table, Van pulls her chair out and she gracefully takes a seat, adjusting the fall of her gown and sitting, he notices, with a slight curve of her back.

'Clever,' he thinks to himself as he takes his own seat. With him the rest of the assembly sits.

It is not, Van remembers afterwards, customary for anyone to sit before the king, but he does not care to make a point of that with his wife pregnant. Even if the others do not know. He turns a doting smile on her and signals that the meal serving may begin.

* * *

From inside the council chambers, the noise of the guards and servants running in the halls is muted, but still present in the ears of those gathered. Allen stops mid-sentence in answering the latest of the barrage of questions the king has come up with to seal his fate as a traitor to Asturia. 

"What is that commotion?" Allen asks, ears pricking as he turns towards the doors.

"We are not finished with this inquiry," the Minister of Justice says, thumping a thick hand on the wooden table before him. The flames of the candles jump at the motion.

The words finally filter in. The bellowing voice of the guards shouting, "Bring help, the princess has fallen!"

The advisors' eyes go wide, even the Minister of Justice's, and Allen's face pales, and then darkens in rage. Short months earlier, the vision presented to his ears would have completely arrested any other action. But after rousing the princess from a similar state, he is no longer paralyzed by it. He gets swiftly from his chair, "For this you had to seal the room! With new guards at the door!" He spits on the floor and turns. Gaddes, who was posted on the inside of the door, yanks them open for him.

The sight that greets the two knights' eyes is a tragically beautiful one.

Eries's body is on the floor, fallen backwards in the dress she had put on bright in the early morning, her hair fallen in a large pool around her head, staining red and darkening with blood from the axe wound.

Gaddes turns immediately and runs for the doctor, his boot falls loud in the near-silent hall. "Which one of you did this?" Allen asks in a tight-lipped voice. The doorway behind the two of them fills with the advisors, and the king.

The standing, shaky guard is unable to speak any more, and points to the guard kneeling next to her. At some point since the accident, in the precious seconds in which the doctor did not arrive, the two switched places. The experienced guard had no wish to have his bloody hands on the royal person in the event of the Senior Knight's entrance. The guards, by this time, realize there is little he will not do for the middle princess. They witnessed her fury at his wounded return, and saw his narrow eyed glances at the newest of them when they were presented to him by the Captain of the Royal Guard.

There is the sound of a loud slap and the kneeling guard falls to the side. Allen moves quickly, taking up a similar position beside her, covering the deepest part of the wound with his gloved hands, eyes trained on her pale face, disregarding the red staining his white gloves. "Please… princess…" he says in a quiet voice that he desperately hopes she can hear while his hands try to stop the flow of blood from her veins. He does not care if the advisors, or even the king hear his pleading. He is aware of the severity of the situation and hopes only that she lives. "Please… do not go."

Dryden struggles through the advisors, unable to speak as he beholds the sight of his sister-in-law fallen. Gaddes returns, the doctor running at his heels, his assistant behind him. "Is she…?" the king manages to find his voice finally.

Gaddes ushers the advisors back into the room with a forceful hand of encouragement, unable to turn his eyes onto the princess again.

Allen turns his eyes to Dryden as the doors shut behind him, and they are fire in watery blue orbs that glare him down. "Not yet. And if she becomes that way because of this I will be done with you."

Gaddes frowns tightly as he turns, looking at the fallen woman. His heart cracks as he sees the doctor looking over what he can see of her wound, peeling back Allen's hands.

Dryden takes a step back from Allen's look.

The doctor frets, looking at the gash and the spilled blood, and finally orders bandages and a hot blade. Allen lifts his eyes and glares at the doctor. "That will leave a scar," he hisses. 'Vanity,' he thinks, 'is not obvious in Eries… but this will damage her more than I ever have.'

"That will also stop the flow of blood!" the doctor worries his bottom lip. "I do not know if sewing it shut will do much good in this case."

"It is across the vein," Allen says in an angry whisper, as though afraid she will hear. "It _needs_ to be sewn shut."

"Bring hot water. A basin. Towels," the doctor shouts at the guards who move quickly on their way. His assistant kneels and opens the bag with his tools in it, and quickly threads a needle.

* * *

Sotet makes his way down the stairs towards the main hall, the thick traveling saddlebags his mother gave him for his last journey slung over one shoulder, sleeping roll under his opposite arm. In the hall he sees several people waiting, where he had only expected one. 

Mot, with her back to him, stands nearest the stairs, facing the fire, as she had in his room. Next is Jujiin, holding a thick cloak, and beyond the Master of Etiquitte stands someone he never expected to see at his departure.

Selassie, quiet and pale, blue eyes serious and as far off as ever. It takes a moment of descending the staircase to realize that she has become the Mistress of Strategy since his last true conversation with her. Bitterly, as he approaches his mother, he is reminded that he has had little interaction with the other members of the Consortium who were not teachers.

As he reaches the landing, his mother turns, steps forward, and embraces him. "Be strong," she says, an emotion thick in her eyes that does not come out in her voice.

He cannot begrudge her a mother's care, at least. She is the only mother he has ever known, after all. He nods, and leans down to kiss her cheek before stepping up to Jujiin. The tall, silver man throws the thick cloak around his shoulders and affixes it around his neck. "It is winter in parts of Gaea," he says, turning to escort Mot upstairs, leaving Sotet and Selassie alone.

"I never congratulated you," Sotet offers the pale young woman.

Her blue eyes are called back to the present and she focuses them on him. In an instant there are a hundred things he realizes he should like to say to her, things he never quite realized before. He opens his mouth, and she smiles. He remains silent.

"Walk a little with me, outside," Selassie says.

He only then notices that she is dressed for the stormy weather that perpetuates outside of the Compound, and he sets his things down and nods, hunching the cloak tighter around himself.

It is not until they are near the outer wall that Selassie speaks again, and it is silent until she does for he can come up with nothing to say to her himself. He feels gangly and awkward next to her.

"I often wonder if remaining behind is a blessing or a curse," Selassie says. "But I have always held more strength in my mind than in my body. My mother told me, when I saw her last, that she was proud of that, and glad that I should not venture out, as she does, into heartbreak and peril."

"The whole world cannot be heartbreak and peril," Sotet replies. "Our mothers are special women, and so special circumstances affect them. Your life has not been so?"

"I have never seen a blue sky," Selassie says to him. "But I am made aware that Norte has none anymore, either. The way that Zaibach did not when you and I were children."

Sotet blinks, unsure of what she means by that.

"Your father's kingdom holds danger for you, and I came to see you off to offer you an alternative to the peril you will undoubtedly face there. Neither you nor I are the fighters of our cousins and siblings here."

He scowls.

"I mean it in a helpful manner, and not the disrespect you take it as," she adds. "But time is short, so you will have to return to hear my true apology. When you are in the wide world, when you are walking across the green fields of Gaea, keep an ear out and keep watch for Arik Dulchap. She holds the ways of the Consortium in more trust than some of us who have not been made exile, and she will be a good ally to you in retrieving the kidnapped Queen, if you let her."

"Why tell me all this?" Sotet asks, suspicious.

"I am the Mistress of Strategy, but battles are not all there is to life," Selassie says with a faint blush to her cheeks. "Growing up I have found myself quite deficient in planning other parts of life, and if you die, I probably won't get the chance."

Sotet has no real response for that, other than another articulate blink. Her cheeks color more darkly and she bows her head.

"Safe journey to you, Sotet. May the many gods guide you home safely." And with that, she turns and heads back up the hill towards the nearest entrance to the Compound's buildings, leaving Sotet to contemplate her words, or to move more quickly about his own way.

* * *

"She is pale," Celena says in a worried tone as she glances down at Eries's prone body lying in the bed. There is a thick layer of bandages around her neck, several pads of gauze secured beneath it extending down her breast on the curving stroke of where the axe fell. 

After the doctor sewed her wound shut with surprisingly deft, but trembling fingers, Celena had arrived and marshaled the other ladies in waiting to carry her up to her room under Allen's watchful eyes. The utmost care was taken in changing her into a dressing gown and getting her into bed before Allen was allowed to quit his pacing in the hall and enter her bed chamber.

"She will be fine," Allen replies stubbornly. He trails his fingers anxiously on the bedpost as he passes it, pacing, eyes never leaving her pale, resting face. It has been a while since he has seen it without the customary veil affixed over her nose and hiding her features from clear view… in fact he cannot remember ever not seeing her in the veil. He finds it easy enough to ignore the ladies in waiting that hover at the edge of the room, just out of eyesight.

"She wears the veil because of some commitment that keeps her from being free," Celena says, lowering her voice to a bare whisper and watching her brother's face as he stares at the Princess's.

"I didn't know that," Allen says, taking a seat on the side of the bed and reaching out a hand to gently brush Eries' hair from her cheek.

"Was the wound very bad?" Celena asks, feeling a little out of place seeing her brother touch Eries in that manner, but unable to leave because she is the appointed chaperone. And because she knows that gossip will start if she removes herself in such a circumstance. The ladies in waiting are not out of her eyesight. She wrings her hands behind her back, a cloth clenched in them, and stands a few feet from the bed, almost afraid to approach for fear of Allen's reaction to it.

"There is a vein under the skin where she was struck," Allen says, eyes trained on her fallen form. "It was severed. We must watch the bandage," he runs ghosting fingertips along the edge of the wrappings. "If they turn red then the wound must be burned closed. The stitches will only be enough if she does not move much to break them."

The other, dutiful ladies in waiting nod behind his back, but Celena knows it will be the two of them who care for her the most while she is recovering.

"Burned?" Celena shivers at the thought, her own memories swimming into her vision. Thankfully the princess's room is much brighter than those she had in Zaibach, or the cockpit of her guymelef. Thankfully she is wearing a dress and not carrying a sword…

"With a…"

"… red hot knife," Celena says, drawing her gown's sleeve up to show a burnt mark on her forearm. Thankfully, she is not Dilandu. "You gave me that yourself," she says in a soft voice that cannot reach the ladies in waiting standing in now nervous poses against the wall opposite them.

"I did not know it was you at the time," Allen says in a weary voice, his posture relaxing slightly as he lowers his head into his hands, propping his elbows up on the bed.

"I know." Watching his face, Celena deems it safe enough to approach. She draws a chair over and sits on the other side of him stoically. "You should rest. I will watch her first."

"I cannot sleep," Allen says. "I will not be able to. The image of her hair… drenched in blood…" he shakes his head.

Celena leans over to put a hand on his shoulder. "Brother… try to forget. She will need you to be strong. You cannot be strong if you are not rested. You were injured recently as well."

Allen rises, slowly, not quite daring to touch Eries's cheek, and steps back from the bed and towards the door. He turns his eyes, at last, to the other ladies in waiting, and his blue eyes harden in the lamp light in Eries' bed chamber. "You watch her… I have things to attend to."

"Brother…"

He does not reply, turning and walking out of the door, pausing only to close it quietly behind him.


	22. Thoughts of the Solitary Minds

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Thoughts of the Solitary Minds 22/30

Series: Vision of Escaflowne

Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

A/N: _As the home stretch draws near, I'm working really hard to get all the details into the story that are needed before we move on to book 3. At the end of one of the chapters, there will be a poll on decisions that will shape our final ending. Keep an eye out. Enjoy._

* * *

Kneeling in the chapel, Arik folds her hands in front of her, the darkness around her making up for her lack of black. She thought, at one point, that she had sensed Skan searching for her since leaving Ispano… but she cannot be sure without more help. Not of his safety, or of Tristan's. And so she mourns, the only way she knows how.

"Please," Arik says softly, looking up at the winged figure of the Fanelian dragon god illuminated in the candlelit darkness of the chapel, "guide me."

The stern features of the cold stone face look down on her in the flickering likght where she kneels, but she feels that the eyes looking at her are kind. She closes her eyes and bows her head, letting herself drift away from the pleasantries of her recent time spent in the castle with the hospitality of the king and queen.

It takes a long moment to let go of the clenching feeling in her heart that she feels for Tristan, but finally she feels it fading from her.

_"Dragons live in the mountains,"_ Arik hears the words of her father, though she knows he cannot be anywhere near. She remembers him, fondly, from the few years she was given with him as a child. Haruth had always been a caring father.

Memories of her time with her father flood through her, and she feels as though she opens her eyes to see them played back before her. It was he who had taught her to fly when she first spread her wings. It was he who had trained her first with her sword, putting the handle of his own childhood sword in tiny hands and showing her how to be courageous in the face of those larger and stronger than her. He had helped her to use her size to her advantage, something her mother had never figured out so completely as her daughter.

And it was he who had comforted her when her mother had assigned her to Ispano, a world away from the only one she had ever known. Even Wren… who was always kind to her and whom she had chosen to…

Silently, looking at the stone carved face, Arik wonders if Fariah and Wren's relationship is like hers with her own father.

She hopes so, and is glad that her relationship with her daughter is nothing like hers with her own mother. Or her brother. Thankfully, for Fariah, there are no siblings to deal with. The age difference between them would be too great. In the back of her mind, in the romantic corner of it that had fallen in love with Tristan, she had always wanted Fariah to have siblings closer her own age, if there were ever to be any. A rare maternal instinct, perhaps. And so she had treated the other Kathis children as though they were also her own, and her own peers had wordlessly done the same, following her example.

Selassie, Fariah, Iret, Nom… all of the children had grown up feeling close to one another. All except her own younger brother. All except Sotet, who was kept in the shadows more than he need be. Arik shakes her head slightly, clearing her thoughts in the process.

Slowly, Arik rises, bowing deeply to the stone figure, and turns to leave the chapel. It is midday. The snow outside casts bright light through the windows of the hallway as she makes her way towards the room that Van has made available to her.

Well… the room that Hitomi had made available to her. Van was in no state to make anything ready for anyone except his wife, upon his return. She has seen little of the Fanelian monarchs since her return with the king in tow, and little of the Egzardian king and queen who are also in residence. Most of her interaction has been in guarding the Egzardian princesses from nothing much in particular. Fanelia Castle is safer than anyone is willing to admit. All of the successful attacks on it have happened during ceremonies. A fact that Arik is more than certain that Van is well aware of. And Merle, too.

Merle's disapproval goes farther than the distracted Fanelian Queen's favor, obviously. The catwoman's displeasure extended only so far, though, and in her few weeks in Fanelia, Arik has grown to know the younger Kathis better than in most of their lives. Sparring in a back corner of the courtyards… discussing the weak points and strong points of the Castle's defense… what time Arik has not spent with the princesses, she has spent with the Kathis.

Perhaps they are not friends… perhaps they will never be. But at least now there is understanding, where previously there were threats and disappointment at a traitor.

Glancing through the windows across the castle courtyard at the central wing of the castle, Arik pauses. 'There is nothing for me to do here. Fanelia is well guarded. If not only by Merle, by the Egzardian military. Van and Hitomi are secure. There must be elsewhere for me to be of use in troubled times like these…' She pauses, looking down at the Queen, wrapped in a tight fur cloak and secured on the arm of the King, as they take the courtyard air with the Egzardian monarchs.

'I will take the time to say goodbye to Hitomi. She deserves my thanks for her help. And for being strong in Van's absence.' Nodding to herself, the silent woman thinks of finding her own breakfast.

And her stomach protests.

"That's very… odd…" Arik murmurs to herself, heading into her room. What few things she has of her own are there, and the clothing lent her by Hitomi, all of it the queen had said was a gift.

In the hall, Merle stops her, and Arik bows her head to the cat woman respectfully. "I'm going to ride out to the Egzardian military encampments to check on the soldiers," Merle says, her chin set proudly, salmon colored hair falling down her shoulders freely. Her hands are crossed behind her back, and in the winter light that comes in the small, high windows in the hallway, Arik cannot make out what she is hiding behind her back. She is dressed as though ready to defend someone, or to go out to train.

"I wish you a safe ride," Arik offers, nodding and glancing the cat woman over. She cannot recall how much training Merle was given at the Consortium, though the doctrines of the group seem strong in her, and she spars as fiercely as anyone Arik has come across. Rough and untutored, perhaps… She was already away in Ispano when Merle had been brought out of her seclusion. Jujin said that she was trained in Fanelia, by someone… but he had never said whom. "It's a wise thing to do, especially since the King and Queen are otherwise engaged."

"King Benanoir will accompany me, as well as Lord Van," Merle replies in an arch voice. "I would appreciate it if you would come as well."

Hesitating, Arik glances down at her attire. Thankfully, Hitomi had not offered her dresses and formal wear that would suit a palace. It was either practicality or her own distaste for such things. "I need my-"

Merle's hands come from behind her back and she tosses Arik's sword at her. "I brought that," she says as she turns, heading towards the nearest stairs, "the stable's this way."

Blinking, Arik narrows her eyes after the cat woman. "What makes you think I'm coming?"

Merle pauses at the bend in the hallway. "Hitomi spent most of her time in the chapel when Van was absent. She didn't find any answers there, and I doubt you did either. Maybe the rest of Fanelia will tell you what the stone walls didn't."

Arik's anger at having her room invaded, and this trip foisted upon her melts away at hearing those words. In the back of her mind, as she buckles the swordbelt around her waist, she is well aware that the trip will do little to take her mind off of Tristan and Ispano, but, she thinks, it is at least better than staying inside and brooding. Without responding verbally, she follows Merle down the stairs towards where the horses are waiting, and helps to saddle one for herself as the two monarchs descend to join them.

* * *

"Nileyah seems to be doing better, don't you think?" Emman asks her son as the crown prince plays with the heir in her chambers. Her health has started to deteriorate. Age catching up with her. Stress over the war and losing a daughter-in-law.

The room has the thick curtains pulled back to let in the winter sunlight, and the high ceilinged room is brightened by it immensely, bringing cheer into a room that seems to hover with the stillness of death otherwise. "What was wrong with her?" Jasper asks, his attention focused on his son's tottering body as he stumbles across the large, thick rug that adorns the stone floor of the Queen's chambers.

"I am not entirely sure," Emman says, reclining in her bed. She looks up at the canopy above her and knows that soon she will give the order to her servants to festoon the room in white. It is not that she feels ill… simply that she feels her energy draining away from her.

"But you knew something was wrong with her and you didn't tell me." Jasper's green eyes stray from his child to his mother, sharp and bright and accusing. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The aged queen turns weary eyes on her son. "If you are trying to find someone to blame for what happened to Nileyah, try looking in a mirror before attacking others," Emman says in an uncharacteristically harsh voice. She coughs and tries to regain her breath as she apologizes. "I am dying and do not want your thoughts of me at the end to be as ill as they seem to be turning, so you must forgive me my cold words."

"You aren't dying," the crown prince says defiantly. Jasper picks up his son and the infant gurgles unhappily, disturbed by the tension in the air.

"Let us state things truly as they are," Emman says, "and this cold is not a cold, son. I will have the servants hang white in the room once you have taken Rishe from here."

Jasper glares at his mother, "For no reason."

"You cannot expect things to go on as they are now forever. You cannot expect to always be a charming prince, Jasper." The queen gathers her strength about her. "The world turns, people age, and things change. Your wife is dead. The only reason she lived as long as she did was Nileyah."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Jasper says.

In his arms, Rishe starts to cry. His father bounces him absently in an attempt to quiet him as his mother continues talking to him.

"Nileyah kept Kira alive, Jasper," Emman says, leaning back against her pillow. "Through what magic or mystery I do not know, but your wife lived as long as she did only because Nileyah is as strong as she is."

The noise of the door opening for servants bringing in more wood for the fire and the midday meal for the queen interrupts the discussion, and Jasper waits to make his response until he hears the door shut behind their exit. He is surprised to find that his son's mood improves, and the crying wanes away.

"…why would she do that?" Jasper asks in a quiet voice, regarding his son because he cannot regard his wife's smiling face. He is again surprised to find his months' old son's arms lifted.

"Because you love her," Nil says, stepping over to take the heir in her arms, lifting the child whose hands are lifted for her. "And she is important to you."

Turning on his guardian, Jasper is not as startled as he could be, considering he knows how long he has known her, and her silent ways of entering a room. The prince narrows his eyes. "If that's true then you almost got yourself killed because of her and me! That's not what I-"

"Hush," Nileyah says, jostling the young heir and hoisting him high in the air above her head. "You're upsetting your son, Jasper."

Glancing at his mother, Jasper rolls his eyes. "Why is it that you can always make him smile?" he asks in an annoyed voice.

"Because I feel like his mother to him," Nileyah responds, lowering the heir and then tossing him into the air.

Jasper lifts a hand. "Be careful-" he starts as she catches him.

"I would never hurt him," Nileyah says, holding the happily gurgling baby against her chest. "He is as dear to me as he could be if he were my own. And I promised Kira that I would protect him as I do you."

"I am tired," Emman says, rousing from where her eyes are drooping. "Please continue this conversation elsewhere."

Jasper respectfully bows to his mother, and from the corner of his eye he sees Nileyah do the same. Straightening, he steps over to put a hand on the small of Nileyah's back to guide her towards the door, leaving the queen to rest. Her words echo in the back of his mind… if she was telling the truth about Nileyah and Kira… could she really be dying?

Nileyah waits to speak until the two of them are in the hallway, and then she does so in a soft, low voice that does not disturb the heir she carries.

"I am not trying to take Kira's place. She was your wife, and his mother. I will be neither, ever. I simply am doing what she asked me to do in her stead," Nil says, carrying the heir against her chest and stepping away from Jasper's gentle hand. "I consider it best to honor the final wishes of those I respect."

Following, Jasper glances at Nileyah, and the way she is holding his son, who is dozing trustingly against her chest. "Then my son is most fortunate… he will have two mothers, even if you do not accept the title." He smiles at her. "You are good with children." He turns his green eyes out the windows of the hallway towards the empty courtyard below.

"We Kathis are raised raising each other," Nileyah says cryptically in a soft, lulling voice, rocking Rishe gently, "We should put him down. And then you and I will practice."

Jasper blinks. "Practice?"

Still speaking in the cooing voice, Nileyah nods, patting the young heir's back, and says, "There is much to be ready for. Son or no, the kingdom may come under attack."

* * *

Benanoir and Van ride ahead of Merle and Arik, but the two women are more alert and present as they ride down towards the encampment than the two monarchs. "We've got quite an escort today," Benanoir says. "Do lovely women always carry swords in Fanelia? I have yet to see the queen with one."

Van surpresses a chuckle for a moment and then lets it out. "I can't really imagine Hitomi carrying a sword," he says, glancing back at Merle with amused eyes. "Can you?"

Merle shakes her head.

"I bet if she were put in a dangerous situation she'd use one, whether you can imagine it or not, though," Arik says, her eyes not watching the two monarchs, but instead the trees that they ride through as they head down the hill outside of the palace city walls towards the encampment.

The winter in the mountains is cold, and the three are all wrapped well under furs and in heavy cloaks as their horses make headway through the snow. Merle sneezes once, and then covers her nose in an embarrassed gesture that neither of the monarchs seem to take notice of.

Van straightens in his saddle, a tall outline topped with messy black hair, and Arik glances at him for a moment. He speaks in sober words, "I intend for it never to come to that."

"Intentions are not always seen through to the end," Benanoir says, reigning his horse in to slow down. "There's ice just up here. Lady Merle and I found that out the hard way during one of our visits to the encampment… we both took quite a tumble from our horses. Inah was furious with me for the bruises I came back with."

"She seems quite a model of decorum whenever I speak with her," Van says in a lame sounding voice.

"I'm certain that your majesty has seen more of her character than he realizes. The girls told me how she tried to match them with you during your stay in Zardi. I'm only sorry that the letter I sent her from the ceremonies did not reach her before you did."

"Letter?" Van asks, curious. He guides his horse thoughtlessly forward, crossing the iced over river without second thought, having done it often when he was younger.

"You were the most eligible bachelor at the festivities," Benanoir says, "but the moment I saw the way you looked at the Lady Hitomi I knew there was nothing eligible about you. Not if you were as honorable as I recalled you to be from previous meetings."

"You have practice at judging that sort of thing?" Arik asks, patting the neck of her horse as they reach more traveled snow nearer the encampment.

"I have four eligible daughters, my lady," Benanoir says, "and my wife is quite a good coach at such things. Inah can spot an unmarried man at half a mile," he laughs. "I have to have a conversation with him first."

"This time you didn't," Merle says, pale purple eyes sparkling in the light bouncing off the snow as she ducks to avoid a branch in her path.

"This was, I think, a special circumstance," Benanoir says, glancing at Van to gauge his reaction as he speaks, "Especially given the Queen's current condition."

Red eyes narrow, and Van's hand is halfway to his sword before Merle snaps out, "Lord Van!" and moves her horse forward between the two monarchs.

"I do not think that I meant what I said how you think I did," Benanoir says quickly as Arik moves between the two men as well, her horse shouldering the Egzardian king's to the side of the path. "Inah has been most discreet and has not mentioned it to the girls, and to me only in the strictest of confidences so that I might find a way to offer our support-"

"I don't need support," Van growls. "My wife is carrying my child."

Benanoir stops his horse and lifts his hands in the air. "Be that as it may, if that is how you react to someone knowing something that is not entirely a secret to a woman who has been pregnant before… it will seem otherwise."

Arik glances at Merle, but the cat woman is staring at Van in confusion. She, too, had noticed the queen's pregnant state, but had no reason to comment on it, and so she had refrained from mentioning it at all.

Van lets out a long sigh and pulls his hand from his sword.

"My Lord's temper has always been quick," Merle says.

"I'm certain it was a most precarious discussion to have with your advisors," Benanoir says. "One that I had to have once upon a time when I was much younger. For what it is worth, having being given a suite in the same wing of the palace as the Queen, Inah and I are prepared to vouch for her chasteness if the need arises."

The Fanelian king shrugs, the black fur of his winter cloak bunching around his shoulders. "I'm sure the child will be proof enough in itself, when the time comes," Van says.

Benanoir nods and straightens in his saddle as well as they head into the encampment to the salutes of the guards on duty. "Captain Leir will be with us shortly. What is it that most interests your majesty today?"

"I am worried about what attack Norte may make next," Van says, "and seeing what army you have will reassure me more than the reports I have read of them."

The foreign king nods, his brown hair made brighter by the morning sunlight. "They will have just begun their morning exercises, you will likely be pleased to witness that?"

"Better informed, at the very least," Van says, "and I look to protect my country's future, so yes, I will be pleased."

Riding behind them as the two horses turn into the encampment and make their way towards the flattened practice field, Arik nods to Merle respectfully at hearing Van speak in such a way. The talks they had about the security of the country, Merle posing the hypothetical suggestion that there would be no escaping more ceremonies in the near future, had obviously been relayed to the necessary party. Merle nods back, and the two women follow the monarchs as they make their inspection tour.

"And the Lady Hitomi?" Arik asks quietly. "Back at the castle alone?"

"My lady is never alone," Merle replies, "and she is having a fitting begun this morning. It will take most of the day."

Van's voice sounds slightly troubled as he ducks under the last set of branches before the encampment, "She would know if there was trouble before we would."

* * *

When Eries finally opens her eyes, she feels stiff. Her entire body feels heavy and her skin feels sticky… as though she has not bathed in quite a while. She starts to turn her head to look around the dark room but Celena's voice cautions her otherwise. "You should not," Celena says softly.

Eries opens her mouth to speak, only to receive the same words.

"You should not, princess. You were wounded, princess… the axe of the guard at the door to the council chambers took his orders a little too seriously for reason." Celena brushes the hair from Eries's forehead and reaches over to moisten the cloth that has graced her pale skin all evening before replacing it. "The surgeon sewed the wound on your neck shut… there should be no scarring, if you are lucky, and careful."

The princess lifts a hand and touches Celena's, cautiously, her eyes intent and questioning. She moistens her lips carefully.

"Allen…?" the younger Schezar sibling asks, becoming aware of the princess's two requests at the same instant.

There is the bare nod, and it causes a grimace to spring to Eries's lips.

Rising from her seat, Celena fills a glass with cool water from the bedside table, and returns to lift it carefully to the princess's dry lips. "Allen carried you here himself, and has taken turns with me watching for you to wake up. I do not know where he goes when he is not here."

Slowly, Eries drinks the water, and lets her body relax into the bed. "I cut you out of your bodice myself… there was no sense in you being uncomfortable in your sleep. Do not worry. Once you were brought into this room only women handled you."

Celena replaces the glass on the floor closer to the bed. She rises and moves about the room in her morning ritual, opening the heavy curtains to leave only the gauzy window coverings between the room and the sunlight. "You are likely feeling weak from so much inactivity in the past week. You will be fine, the doctors say. I'm certain that when they dress your wound next you will be able to move again. On your own."

It is the most words that Eries has heard the younger Schezar sibling say quite so frankly and so kindly. She is impressed, and a little overwhelmed. Her head is still spinning and the room, now bright, makes her close her eyes against the glare. Celena returns to the bedside and checks the cloth on her forehead.

Eries looks up at the young woman and frowns. She looks tired…

The door opens without a knock, and Eries starts to turn her head but at a warning noise from Celena she freezes, half a sigh on her lips as she sinks back into the pillow behind her head.

"How is she?" Allen asks, striding through the door. His uniform is less than pristine, looking as though he has been wearing it for several days, and he appears to be unshaven.

"Awake," Celena replies with a smile as she rises, again, from her chair. "And asking about you," she adds with a faint flicker of a smile on her lips.

"She should not be talking," Allen scolds angrily, glaring at his sister in the bright morning light.. "She very nearly…"

"She is _awake_ brother," Celena cautions, giving him a stern glance as she steps aside to reveal the princess on the bed to him. "I will be taking a nap in the next room if you need me." She crosses towards the door to the small drawing room, stopping to kiss Allen on the cheek before she slips out.

The door closes behind Celena, and Allen finds he still cannot take his eyes from the lying form of the princess on the bed. There is a long silence that follows the noise of the door closing. Eries waits, patiently, until she is not sure if Allen followed Celena out, and then starts to shift.

"Don't," Allen says, lifting a hand that he knows she cannot see.

Awkwardly, he crosses to the bed and takes the seat Celena just occupied. He gazes at the bandage on Eries's neck with the same eyes that his younger self had looked on his missing sister's room, and his mother's death bed.

Blue eyes watching Allen carefully, Eries slowly reaches over and puts a hand gently on his knee. She had not seen his face then, not truly known him as a child, but it is not hard to imagine what he is thinking, knowing the events of his life as she does.

She remembers her own feelings after finding out her mother had passed away after giving birth to her younger sister. Her last conversation with Therese Aston. And then, later, with her father. Neither were very fond memories for the princess.

Allen blinks, coming out of his stupor, and looks down at Eries. "I should not be in here with you alone, princess… now that you are awake it is not proper. There has always been at least a dozing lady in waiting in the corner-" he turns to look for one now, but there is no one else in the room with them.

She tightens her hand on his knee, drawing his attention back to her. His expression is surprised. Open. With everyone else Allen seems able to hide everything, but around Eries his emotions… his thoughts are always written all over his face. He turns into a bashful young man, in some respects, and much less the suave playboy he is known as.

"Princess?" he asks, gazing at her face in uncertainty. She, in turn, lay serenely on the bed before him. A vision. The one woman he has never been able to truly figure out.

Shaking her head just slightly to reassure him, Eries lifts her hand, propping it up by the elbow, fingers extended. Allen looks at it for a long moment. Eries's eyes slowly begin to falter in their sure calm, and she lowers her hand, turning her eyes away from him. Belatedly, Allen reaches out and takes her hand in his. "We… were supposed to discuss this."

A slow smile grows on Eries's pale lips, made paler by loss of blood and lack of sunlight, and her free hand strays up to the bandages, a twinkle in her blue eyes as she gazes at him, blond hair soft on the pillow around her head. Her pale beauty seems to glow in the wan light coming in from outside.

Tightening his grip on her hand, Allen lifts it to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "Yes. There is that." He closes his eyes halfway and puts the back of her hand against his cheek. A hundred things run through his mind, a thousand words cross his tongue, but he does not speak. He sits in silence with her.

Eries closes her eyes, licking her lips again, and rests against the bed, still feeling weak from inactivity. "Your nephew is doing well," Allen says when he finally breaks the silence. "I see him in the afternoons. The King has me reporting to him daily of your situation, and it is usually the time when the crown prince is visiting his father after his afternoon nap."

The princess opens blue eyes and turns them on Allen, the mention of her nephew suddenly enough to awaken her from restfulness once more. Engagement… injury… she is still a princess.

She is still the acting monarch.

And the world is still at war.

"Princess?" Allen asks, unsure what he has said to distress him.

"The… council," Eries manages to croak in a voice that disturbs her. Her throat feels raw, and she can taste blood at the back of her mouth. "The… war."

"You should not try to speak yet," Allen says in a concerned voice. Eries levels a determined gaze on him, and Allen bows his head in respectful acquiescence. "I will tell you, princess, but it will be best for you to recover and take hand of them instead of receiving reports from me."

Eries nods slightly, squeezing his hand as a sign for him to continue.

* * *

"Word has come from Asturia," Van says, entering the fitting room upon his return from the encampment as Hitomi is fitted into the robes she will wear during the winter ceremony. His cheeks are still colored from the cold ride he has returned from. "Allen sends his best to us."

Hitomi regards herself in the mirror with appraising eyes. The cloth is thick and embroidered with the colors of the nation. Red and gold patterns line the shoulders and neckline of the robes that are a dark, conservative green. Lighter than the wedding robes, but still heavy on her heavy body. "It's a good thing I started running once I came to Gaea or I'd be worn out." She turns as instructed by the seamstress who is making the Queen's adjustments on the robes, and smiles at the sight of her husband with flushed cheeks from the chill outside. Privately, she thinks he looks very handsome with the slight blush to his otherwise tan skin. "What word from Asturia?"

"Allen was sent to retrieve Millerna from Norte… apparently the Kathis learned of her whereabouts." Van turns his eyes from the letter to his wife and smiles back. "You look well in that," he says, pulling off his riding gloves and tossing them on the floor next to one of the few uncomfortable chairs in the room.

"Kathis?" Hitomi asks, ignoring his compliment for the time being.

Van turns back to the letter for a moment before speaking. "The Kathis are… royal bodyguards, sworn to protect their countries above all else, and the nobles they are assigned to. Their family is the order they are trained in, and everything else is their dedication to their charge."

"It sound serious," Hitomi says, glancing at the mirrored reflection of her husband. "Do you… have one?"

Van glances at Hitomi as the seamstress instructs her to lift her arms, and turns to look out the thick window at the courtyard below them, "The letter arrived as I was returning from the Egzardian military encampment. The soldiers are doing well, you had it set up properly." When she does not respond, he turns to find her staring at him and quickly turns his eyes back down to the letter, reading on, "Apparently, Allen sends, he failed in retrieving Millerna from Norte. And this is odd… Eries was wounded by one of the castle guards."

"What?" Hitomi asks, her protests at his secrecy lost in that bit of knowledge. She lowers her arms and is pricked by a pin. "Ow!" The seamstress lifts a brow at her and she waves it off with a smile, attention focused on Van's reading, "How… why?"

"Allen doesn't say," Van says, offering the letter to her. "He does say that she is recovering though. Apparently she can't talk. So she's been writing things to be relayed to meetings."

The mention of the Princess reminds her that she is a Queen, and again Hitomi appraises herself in the mirror, and is surprised to find that the formal robes, which look much like a modified kimono, remind her, as she watches her reflection, of the robes she had seen Varie wear in her vision. Her attention is drawn from the letter… from the situation at hand. 'By Fanelian standards,' Hitomi thinks as the seamstress informs her that she can lower her arms now without risk of puncture, 'I look very much like a queen.'

A hand strays to her swelling stomach.

'And I am going to give birth to an heir…'

From his lounging position, Van watches Hitomi's expression in the mirror, and sees her hand lift to her stomach. He chooses to remain silent, to let her think her thoughts through. The idea of her pregnancy came as a shock to him, he simply forced the idea down his mental throat, knowing that there was no room for him to be uncertain about his wife, if he wanted to keep her.

'What sort of a life is this to bring a child into?' she asks her reflection, seeing a hazy one of Van watching her intently. She turns to ask him a question, but is interrupted.

There is a knock on the door and Merle steps in shortly after. "I hate to interrupt the two of you before dinner, but," she says, glancing at Hitomi in her robes and nodding in appreciation, "Arik would like to speak with you and Hitomi, Lord Van."

Van arches a brow.

"We will meet her in the drawing room momentarily," Hitomi says, glancing at Van for a long moment. He rises and offers her a hand, and she takes it before stepping down from the stool she is standing on. "And the two of you should stop making such a fuss about the robes, they'll just have to be readjusted for next year."

Merle nods and turns to leave, her tail swishing behind her as she passes through the doorway to inform Arik. "What is this about, do you know?" Hitomi asks Van once she is out of sight.

"Your guess is as good as mine." He offers her his arm, and when she takes it he leads her from the room. "I'll make all the 'fuss' I like about the robes. They suit you. Although they could be a little brighter to make your eyes stand out more…"


	23. Lonely Choices

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Lonely Choices 23/30

Series: Vision of Escaflowne

Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

A/N: _Sorry this took so excessively long to update. Life intervened. Thanks to everyone for their encouragement during the down time. _

* * *

The troops from Norte reassemble, converging in the pillaged capital of Egzardia. The streets are littered with what spoils the army has no use for. Broken pottery and straw and every here and there a peasant that had not submitted as fully as the invaders would have liked. The Egzardian citizens watch with silent eyes as the troops congregate amidst them, take over their homes and eat their food. The men are under different generals than the Norte king normally chooses for his men, but the Egzardians cannot know that. All the Egzardians know is that the strange troops, the ones with the vacant eyes and the lackluster appearance, are being prepared to move. They are being set loose on Gaea again.

While this is a happy move for them, as the columns of marching soldiers move out of the capital, the citizens with relatives elsewhere feel a strain on their hearts, though fear of the retainers left to govern the city gnaws away what loyalty to kin most of them feel. A few brave souls force their hammering hearts into their chest and try to get correspondence to loved ones who may be in the advancing army's path. But the rest of the citizens, those who know there is a secret that must be kept, who have seen the machinery hauling guymelefs through their broken city, are silent.

Warning others would mean exposing the knowledge they had, and if the enemy king found out the secret that was hidden in the sealed halls of the palace, there would be little hope of stopping the advancing army.

As Fariah and the Freidan military advisors feared, the black armoured soldiers attack from the mountain passes, but now they are backed by supplies from a wealthy nation of traders that was brought easily to its knees. Luckily, for Freid, Egzardia is less involved in weapons production than other countries with such a rich life of trading, and so the soldiers attacking their border are only better fed and mounted, and do not bear the devastating weapons that they might have if they had taken Basram.

These thoughts, and not the secret kept by the Egzardian citizens, plague Fariah as she attends the Duke's meeting with the Hathei, Tean, and Umal, his most trusted military minds. The room is dark despite the festival lighting outside, and the people are silently praying instead of reveling for their god. Fariah stands tensely at Chid's shoulder, her hearing twitching at the lack of noise. 'Amazing that so many people can become so silent,' she thinks, wondering if the refugees from the outlying areas are among the worshippers.

"The only reason that the troops from Norte have not made it farther into the country is our troops that were posted at the passes. We must reinforce them in order to maintain our borders," Hathei says, settling his massive shoulders resolutely. "Please, my Duke, give the order."

Chid turns his pale face to look at each of the three brothers in turn. The news has upset him, and he is not entirely sure how to respond to it. "You sons of Voris have all come to the same conclusion?"

The brothers nod, slowly, and lower themselves to the floor in front of them to bow, Hathei, the oldest, taking the lead. Tean and Umal, the other sons of the dead captain, follow suit behind him. All three had chosen to serve their country by serving the Duke, and had taken up offices in the palace where they felt they could be most useful. The finery of their festival clothing brushes the pristine carpet as they do so, and Fariah's eyes are caught, for a moment, in the patterns on the clothing, and the folds in the light of the dimly lit chamber.

"Your father was lost to our people because of war," Chid says. "I would not like to lose any of you." The young Duke stands and walks to one of the covered windows to draw up the screen and look out at the worshippers on the stones below.

Fariah steps over behind him, snapping back to attention and looking out the window carefully for anyone disguised among the worshipers and refugees. Thankfully, she notices no one out of place. When the refugees arrived, she made sure to oversee the greeters so that she would know all the new faces in the castle.

"Regardless of the sacrifice our father made," Tean says, slowly getting himself back into a sitting position on folded knees, "this is the best course of action, my Duke."

"And the sacrifice was his to make," Umal says, following suit and getting to his knees on the thickly carpeted floor. "It is a sacrifice we would all gladly make for you."

Chid's face grows sad as he looks down at the worshipers. "It is not one I would ever ask of you."

Hathei sits up then, looking at Fariah over Chid's shoulder, and, feeling his eyes on her, she turns and nods minutely in reply. Chid turns to look at her, "And what do you think about this, Fari?"

"I am not the military mind that these men are," she says in a soft voice, "however, I agree with their estimation of the proper solution. Norte was repulsed early from an attack in Fanelia, and it saved the country."

Arching a brow, Chid considers that, and then turns to the brothers. He looks at the men in their rich clothing, vests over bare chests, finely spun cloth pants that leave shins and ankles bare, and he senses the spirit of their father, who had always been like a father to him, in these men. He knows he is sending Hathei into danger, but is aware that loss is a part of human existence, and that he has faced such things before. If it is Hathei's time to return to the embrace of the heavens, it is best he meet his fate as he has lived his life. "Go. Make your preparations, and lead your troops, Hathei."

The brothers all bow again, and rise to leave the room, not turning their back to Chid until they reach the door. Then, finally, they turn and exit the receiving hall quietly, out of respect for the worshippers outside.

They alone are not among the worshippers, as the Duke is not, as his Kathis is not. But no one questions the Duke, his motives or his faith.

"How do you know these things?" Chid asks Fariah once they are out of earshot, turning back to pass the cushioned seat he had vacated to look at the revelers below. "It seems incredible to me."

Fariah smiles a grim smile, straightening up and following Chid as he heads towards the Duke's private exit hallway towards his own chambers. "A little bird told me."

She is both impressed and saddened to see that there is little childhood left for the Duke of Freid to have. Impressed that a boy of twelve handles such things so well, and saddened that there are other children that are allowed no time for the infancy of their lives. Perhaps, she thinks as she watches the unmoving shadows in the hall that they head down towards Chid's quarters, there are worse things than being a Kathis child after all. Once, she recalls, and only once, she shouted at her own mother that she wished she had never been born.

* * *

It has taken the entire afternoon of riding through the cold snow of the mountains to make her decision to leave Fanelia. It would have, possibly, been easier to protect the two monarchs if she had stayed in the hills surrounding them, the countryside where bandits or soldiers of Norte could be hiding. Even the Egzardian military would not be so deadly as she in such an environment. But finally she understands her decision. The mountain country feels, she knows, like a home to her, in some disconnected way. Van is like a brother or a very close cousin. Merle is like a younger sister… and Hitomi… her heart had cracks to admit that Hitomi acts as she has always wanted her own mother to when dealing with her.

And to defend such a place, given a choice, would be easy for her to do. To stay somewhere that feels so safe to her, somewhere that she is allowed simply to be instead of being someone with a great purpose, is very tempting to her. But she knows that if she does that, if she stays… she will be the traitor that Merle and Fariah accuse her of being. And above all else, she does not want to disappoint her daughter.

So Arik stands waiting in the drawing room, and bows deeply as the two Fanelian monarchs enter. Hitomi, with pins in her clothes, puts a hand on her shoulder, instead of lowering herself, to make the other woman rise. "You don't need to bow to me. You've known me when I wasn't a queen."

"I feel it is necessary. You are a queen now, after all. And in parting it is always good to leave a good impression. Someone told me that once," Arik says, standing straight and tall before the Queen. She forces her spine to remain strong, finding her center as she does what she feels is necessary, but painful.

"Leave?" Hitomi asks, confused. She cannot truly remember exactly when Arik returned, but she knows she has not had nearly enough time to spend with the woman since then. "You only just returned. We haven't had time to…"

"This… is not my home. And there are other places where I feel I can be of more use than I can here. If war comes to Fanelia, I am sure that the two of you and Fanelia will survive. It is not so easy to assure the rest of the world's safety. The King," Arik says with a smile, nodding to Van, who remains a step behind where Hitomi has moved forward, "has his country well in hand, Queen Hitomi. And Merle will defend you to the death."

Turning a green eye on Van at hearing that about Merle, Hitomi continues, "But what about you? How can you save the entire world?"

Arik smiles and shrugs her shoulders simply. There is no real answer to that, and the mere question makes her feel heavy again, as she has not since retiring to Fanelia to rest, as it were. "You did."

Blinking, Hitomi takes a step back, and Van puts a hand on the small of her back to steady her, an amused twist to his lips and a chuckle in his voice. "She's right you know."

"But… Tristan will expect to find you…" Hitomi stammers, gathering her wits about her once more, swiftly, in a manner she learned in the seasons since her husband's disappearance. "Tristan will look for you here."

"Tristan may…" Arik takes a deep breath and meets Hitomi's green eyes with forced-calm gray ones in the winter light of the drawing room. She steels herself for what she is about to say, afraid that in saying it she will make it come to pass, "He may be dead. If he is not then he is in hands as good as my own, and he wished… wishes me to have nothing more to do with helping him. I will respect his wishes and refrain from sharing his danger… but I cannot sit idly by and let the world fall to pieces when I could have had a hand in saving it."

"Arik…" Hitomi starts, her eyes brimming with kindness. She takes a step forward, the thick robes rustling about her as she does so.

"Please, Hitomi," Arik says, turning towards the window to escape the compassion of the Queen's green eyes, "don't try to change my mind. It's already made up. It's who I am. Or at the very least, who I strive to be." She turns her face again towards them, and offers the king and queen a warm smile. "I'll be leaving in the morning. The two of you have other things to worry about than what happens to me. I have kept myself aloof of the two of you because I did not want to become entwined in things here… in things that do not need me. You will have a child to care for soon. And all the happiness that that brings." The tall Kathis woman sweeps herself into a very low formal bow.

Hitomi falls silent, watching Arik, her eyes watching something else entirely, and Van moves his hand from her back to her waist, pulling her against him gently. "At least let us supply you for the journey," he says. "Winter in the mountains can be dangerous."

"Of course," Arik says, straightening up. She smiles at him. "Traveling alone is much more dangerous than in pairs."

Chuckling in amusement, Van shakes his head. "That's debateable," he says. "Just a different kind of danger."

Merle, who has watched from the edge of the room, and recognizes Hitomi's vacant expression, steps forward. "Alright, enough of this," the tall cat woman says, "Queen Hitomi has a fitting to finish for a ceremony to announce the heir. I'm sure you have packing to do, Arik." She separates the group of people deftly, putting a firm hand on Van's arm to direct him to draw Hitomi from the room.

With a puzzled look, Van withdraws, taking the absent seeming Queen with him, wondering what Merle is about.

Merle accompanies Arik herself, one hand on the other Kathis woman's elbow as the two of them pass through halls, at first in silence. Halfway to their destination, Arik dares to ask, "Will Hitomi be all right? She seemed…" she trails off, glancing up and down the hall for servants in an effort to remain discrete.

"My Queen took on the entire world before because she had visions of destruction and death. Sometimes I fear she still has them," Merle says in a harsh voice.

"Fear?" Arik asks. "It is not so uncommon a thing to have premonitions, among the Draconians… I would think that-"

"The Queen, _not_ the King," Merle hisses, guiding Arik down the hallway swiftly towards her room. "And she is delicate, in some respects. Seeing such things surely scared her… at times it appeared to hurt her. I will do anything I can to keep such things from happening again."

"I am certain she will be just fine," Arik says in a reassuring tone, stopping just outside her door as they reach it. "If I have caused such a thing, I apologize, and hope you will take her my apologies."

"It is enough for me to hear it from your lips," Merle says. "Please, have a safe journey, and let me know if there is anything you will require for your departure."

Without waiting for a response, Merle turns and heads down the hallway. She cannot bear to think that anyone would willingly hurt Hitomi. Just as she hates to think that there are people who would attack Lord Van.

* * *

The forces from Norte are met by strong resistance from the Freidan troops on the borders, and the border troops are soon reinforced by the bulk of the military. Both sides fight bravely, the Norte troops with all the ferocious savagery of people who believe they are in the right, and the Freidan troops with the intensity of defending wolves.

By the time the battle is finished, the ground in the mountain pass is red with blood and littered with bodies of the fallen. The snow has been turned to ice and the wind flaps standards forlornly.

But there are more bodies of the Norte troops than Freidan, and the losses the invaders have suffered are worse than those of the defenders. Hathei, wounded but still astride his large horse, stands with his sword drawn at the head of his army and waits to see what the Norte general will do.

The Norte general, a haggard looking man in his armor, kicks his horse's sides and turns, heading back in the direction that they marched from. Unconvinced, Hathei dispatches a unit to follow him down the path, and turns his own horse to retreat to the encampment for treatment of his wounds.

Allen passes down the hallways, having finished playing with Exeter for the afternoon, again amazed at what duties there are to being Senior Knight Caeli that he had never dreamed there would be, and is surprised to be almost knocked down by a messenger walking quickly in the opposite direction with his head down.

"My sincerest apologies, sir knight!" the young messenger says quickly as he looks up and realizes whom he has nearly knocked over. He bows and begins collecting the papers he dropped.

With a frown, Allen starts to snap that he should be much more aware of himself when one of the papers catches his eye. Bending down, he picks it up, and is surprised to see that it bears Eries's seal and signature. "Where did you get these papers?" he demands in a quiet voice.

"I was called to the princess's room to collect them by Lady Celena," the messenger says, a nervous expression on his face. The Senior Knight is known to be fairly volatile, and his temper as quick as his sword. "They are headed for the King in the library…"

Narrowing his blue eyes dangerously, Allen rises, dropping the paper to the floor again. "Carry on," he says, heading down the plushly carpeted hallway at a quicker pace than before, more intent on reaching his destination than before.

After his usual visitations of Exeter, Allen has made a habit of visiting his freshly betrothed princess. It has escaped his notice that she has been dealing with paperwork in his absence. After her accident, in his mind, Allen had been finished with his respect for Dryden, though he grudgingly kept up with the motions of his position when it came to paying the king his due. And after his suggestion that she rest… he had thought the two of them were done with this discussion on her activities.

Making a sharp turn and heading up the stairs, his frown deepens. Celena should have mentioned something to him about this. Or Dryden…

On the proper floor, he passes the prince's governess and heads into the princess's chambers, pushing the door to the sitting room open. Two of the ladies in waiting let out high-pitched screams at his forceful throwing open of the doors, and one who maintains her head about her steps forward to block the doors to the princess's bed chamber.

"Step aside," Allen says in a tight voice.

"The princess is bathing," the lady in waiting says. "She is not to be disturbed at the moment. The doctor has ordered that she soak in a mineral bath to aid with her recovery."

Narrowing his eyes, Allen glares at the young woman blocking his path. "When did this begin?"

The young woman blinks. "The bath or the doctor's order?" she asks, confused.

"The bath," Allen says, voice straining as he forces himself to maintain calm. "And how much longer?"

Behind the young woman, the door opens, just enough to let a person through, and Celena steps out of the bed chambers. "That's enough, Urea," she says. "The three of you, go inside and dress the princess to receive Sir Schezar."

After a chorus of polite, "Yes ma'am," the three younger women head past Allen and make their way inside the princess's chambers, the youngest closing door firmly behind themselves.

"When were you going to tell me about all this?" Allen asks, rounding on his sister as soon as they are alone, not bothering to keep such tight control on his voice in her presence.

"When my lady told me to, brother," Celena replies, stepping past him and taking a seat on one of the couches in the sitting room. "It's never been my job to report her every action to you. What made you think that changed?"

He starts to speak up, but holds his tongue entirely at that. Not that Eries would mind if he confided in his sister, he feels. Simply that there are always listening ears around the palace. The sobering thought spreads calm throughout him. There is no sense in punishing his sister for something she has had no control over.

Celena frowns at her brother's renewed calm. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"There is nothing to tell," Allen says, crossing the room and sitting down opposite his sister. "Nothing yet anyway. And nothing here."

"Sometimes I feel more like your prisoner than your sister," Celena says in a cold voice, rising as the door opens. "My lady will see you now, Sir Schezar," she extends a hand towards the open doorway where the youngest of the other three ladies in waiting stands, holding it open for him to enter.

Allen bows his head politely and heads inside. Celena turns with an annoyed frown and heads out into the hallway, still flushed and a little disoriented from the scent of the hot minerals and steam of the princess's bath. It was all so familiar…

Inside, Allen is almost disturbed to find that Eries is sitting upright in bed and watching him with unapproachable blue eyes. He sets his chin and makes a formal bow to her that he has not since she has been ill.

"Princess," he says in a respectful voice, wary of the ladies taking up small occupations around the room just out of his eyesight.

Eries holds up a hand to still his lips and then claps her hands together twice. The three young women step over to her bedside and curtsy. Pointing to one, Eries motions the other two out of the room. Reluctantly, the two young women do so, and the eldest of the three of them curtsies again and returns to arranging the princess's dresses in her armoire.

"I happened to run into your messenger today," Allen says, disregarding the girl's presence and taking a seat beside the bed. "I thought you understood it best that you recover before taking on the council again."

Blue eyes unchanging, Eries reaches down beside the bed and takes out writing supplies, on which she writes her response.

_**You**__ understood that, Sir Schezar. Without my intervention, this country would be at war._

"That may well be, but without you, there is little holding this country together at the moment."

The feathered plume dips in ink once more and Eries writes again.

_I am not as weak as you take me to be._

Frustrated, Allen gets to his feet. "I have never considered you weak, princess, but you were gravely injured recently and-"

He is interrupted by the scratching of the plume's tip against the paper. Turning back to her, he looks down to see what she has written once she stops.

_So were you._

Once he has read it, she continues.

_I expect no less of myself than I do of others._

Allen sighs. "I am only being so cautious because I worry for your health, princess."

Eries sighs as well, writing again.

_I know. _

With an annoyed cough, Allen sits down in the chair beside her bed again, still feeling the healing cuts and bruises on his own body as he does so. Wounds he thought had healed fully before… Eries writes something else, and hands the paper to him.

_Now, tell me the day's news._

But at the end she has written, just once, his name.

_Allen._

Blinking, Allen looks up and sees that her eyes have softened, and that there is a faint smile on her lips, one that brightens up her face even in the dreary overcast light filtering into the room. Allen smiles, sighing again, and nods. At least, he thinks to himself, the day is not completely ruined.

He sets the writing supplies beside her bed, folding the paper she wrote on and tucking it into a pocket. "There is word of an attack on Freid," he says, prepared for her response.

Pale fingers grip the covers tightly, and Eries's soft expression turns to one that is disturbed. Allen reaches over and loosens her hand from the covers, taking it in his own. "I am certain he will be fine. Chid is ensightful and has good men with him. I am sure the borders will guarded, even during the winter celebration."

But even as Allen says these words, he is uncertain at their veracity. His expression changes, and he feels Eries's hand tighten around his own. He looks down at their hands in confusion, and then up at her face.

An expression of understanding is writ across her features, and Allen feels his own heart soften at the sight of it. 'He is her nephew,' he reminds himself, 'but she never had to accept him as my son.'

Glancing over his shoulder at the young woman still checking the fall of dresses in the large wooden wardrobe, Allen lifts Eries's hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "Thank you," he says softly.

* * *

Bundled in a dark cloak, Arik sits on the horse's back as it carries her out of the Fanelia castle. The creature hangs its head, as though to tell her it is too early in the morning for such things, and plods up the path away from the city. The winter skies are streaked with a pale light that suggests morning, but the snowflakes in the air hold the lie of the lingering nighttime.

Merle's words are fresh in her mind. The catwoman had stopped her as she drew herself from her bath early that morning. The water had been cold enough to make the cold room seem warm. Merle's eyes had been intense, disapproving, and unashamed as she walked in on Arik, despite her nudity.

Arik had kept her back from facing the younger Kathis, and met her eyes evenly as she imparted her advice. _"You should probably go to Asturia. It is one of the few countries where there is no Kathis… and if what Van says of Eries being ill is true, you will be needed. Don't go into this thinking you aren't going to make it back." _Nothing more. And then Merle turned and left the bathing room, and Arik to her dressing for the winter journey.

In light of the encounter, Arik decides to make Asturia her first stop. Perhaps, she thinks, she will be able to help them retrieve Millerna, in some manner. At the very least, she thinks silently to herself, she can die trying.

Her stomach protests again, and her heavy heart twists at the thought.

"Perhaps I will survive," she admits grudgingly as the horse makes his way into the hills. "But what is there to come back to?" she asks the wind. She rides out of the capital, and by mid-morning she is already in the mountains outside of the city. Around her she can smell the scent of dragon, and hear the rumble of them as they prowl around. The lethargic horse is much more skittish and alert, and moves more swiftly.

It is when she senses one directly in front of her that Arik pulls the reigns back and halts the horse, dismounting and turning to tie it to the nearest tree. "I wonder if this is what you did, in the end, Varie," Arik asks, heading up towards where the dragon is blocking her path and somehow waiting. In the back of her mind, she sees Tristan's face, kind and caring. "Was Goau like Tristan, Varie?"

The creature is a sight to see. It is enormous, with dark green scales that are graying with what must obviously be age. And at the sight of it, Arik feels a pang of fear. 'What was I thinking?' a small voice inside her head asks. But she squares her shoulders and gazes with her gray eyes at the beast's large glowing red eyes. "Strange eyes, for a dragon," Arik says in a soft voice.

The beast smiles, a broad mouth full of sharp gleaming teeth greeting her. Arik takes a step forward, the little voice shouting in protest. The dragon's eyes blink and stare at her, and Arik's eyes widen. "… surely no…"

* * *

In truth, Freid is not the real reason for the attack on the small Duchy's borders. While a small portion of the army rides to Freid, the bulk of the forces swoop down on Zaibach.

The Duchy of Zaibach, re-established after the war that engulfed all of Gaea, is unprepared for the attack.

Due to sanctions against the large country by the other nations of Gaea, their military is a formality at best. The Norte soldiers march across the borders, taking care of the small opposing force with little problem. Those who oppose the invaders into the country meet a bloody end.

More swiftly than during the attack on Egzardia, the Norte soldiers reach the capital, and the last line of defense of the entire country.

The Duke stands, looking down from the rampants of the castle, and feels his heavy heart grow weary. Such a life was he appointed to when he was elected leader of the New Duchy of Zaibach. He turns his head, looking back towards the stairs that lead down to the interior of the palace. He never intended to bring anyone else into such a fate. Not his wife… certainly not his children.

Turning his brown eyes back on the small group of his loyal soldiers, Gayo feels his heart sink in his chest. His wife…

Monarchs, he thinks, grow prepared for circumstances such as these. Invasions, wars. But her family, though filled with beautiful women and power-hungry men, has never been truly of royal bloodline. And so it is unfair to expose her to something like this, he thinks, something she cannot possibly be prepared for.

He hears footsteps on the stone of the small walkway, and turns his head to regard whoever interrupts him on this evening when a hopeless fight looms just at the edge of the horizon.

He is more than surprised to see his wife.

"You should be inside," Gayo says, "in the hold with the ladies and their servants. It will not be safe to be here much longer."

"It will not be safe to be anywhere in Zaibach, much longer, my love," Sierra says, stepping up beside him. She wears the same plain gray gown she wore when they were first introduced, a silver color only a few shades darker than her skin, and her long wavy black hair hangs down her back.

Gayo straightens at the sight of her in the moonlight, his own stiff military jacket making him look larger than life.

"I wanted to see for myself what was coming, and to be by your side when it came."

His chest tightens to hear her say those words, and Gayo smiles at his much shorter wife, putting a hand against her back. "It is good that you have come then," he says. He extends his other hand towards the moonlit countryside stretched below the castle. "The darkness, there."

Sierra trains gray eyes on it and is surprised at what she sees, "It moves."

"The army of Norte dresses in black armor, and moves like a poison through the night," he says. "It stretches farther than we can see now, and as wide as the mountain valley leading here."

She lifts a pale hand to his chest, turning to look at him with hopelessness in her eyes. "The children are downstairs," she says in a hushed voice. "They will be safe."

Drawing her against his chest, Gayo nods silently, his dark hair mingling with hers, "You should be with them. I want you all to be safe. This is not a thing for you."

There is silence for a moment, holding nothing more than the flapping breeze moving the standards that line the ramparts of the castle, and then Sierra speaks. "When we were married, there was nothing in my vows that said 'war is not a thing for me,'" she peers up at him over his stiff military collar. "I am with you, whatever poison wends its way here." She blinks tears away, "For however long there is left."

Gayo lifts a gloved hand to brush away the tears from his wife's eyes and says, "I pray only that there is longer than the night."

* * *

Allen steps into the library, and bows stiffly to Dryden, who is seated in his throne with Exeter in his lap. Another futile meeting that morning, but the Knight could recall his exchange with the princess the day before, and so his feathers were not nearly as ruffled as they might have been, had he not known of the documents she had written and sent to them. Her kindness… he focuses himself on the task at hand. Dryden has never been an easy opponent.

The young prince claps his hands at the sight of the Knight Caeli, and Allen, as he looks up, smiles to the young boy.

"How is she?" Dryden asks, voice haunted by guilt as he looks down at Allen. His arm is casually around his son's waist, though it is obviously less an embrace and more a matter of keeping the Crown Prince from falling from the high seat.

"She is wounded, and has been for some time," Allen replies, " but if you really wished to know, my king, you could always visit her."

"After what happened… I do not think she would see me." Dryden lifts his son and hands him off to his governess, who is standing awkwardly to the side of the throne.

Allen restrains himself from rolling his eyes and heaves a sigh instead. "She has no visitors now, none but me. Why would she turn them away if she had them? At the very least you could have Exeter visit her."

"I do not want to expose my son…" Dryden looks down at the young boy, who smiles brightly up at his father from the arms of his governess.

"Where's auntie, daddy?" the prince asks, putting his arms around her neck.

The two men meet one another's eyes. Dryden speaks up slowly, "Your aunt is resting now, Exeter."

"I want her to play with me," the crown prince says, struggling in his maid's grip to get free. "She knows games. You never play games, daddy."

"I will play games with you this afternoon. I have work to do now."

"You always have work to do," Exeter replies, turning his face from his father to look at Allen. "Will you play with me again?"

Blue eyes fixed on Dryden, Allen nods, a pleasant smile on his lips. "Of course I will play with you, my prince. But only if you let the king and I speak for now."

Exeter nods, smiling, and the governess curtsies as best she can with arms full of him, and heads out of the library, leaving Allen and Dryden to stare at one another.

"It is not my fault Eries has no visitors, nor is it my fault she was wounded."

"You are my king, and I would not openly say this," Allen says in a tight voice. "But that is a lie if ever I heard one from your lips."

Dryden leans forward, arching a brow. "If ever? Are you implying that you have?" He taps his fingers on the arm wrest of his chair. "Eries isn't well enough to save you from punishment this time, _Sir Schezar_."

"Or to protect me from answering your inquiry," he counters, "I did not loose Millerna for you, either," Allen says in a cross voice. "And Norte is a military wasteland. There are no people in the streets… no farms. Everyone is in the military encampments. Women… children… the castle itself is smoke blackened by all the forges out in front… and there are guards everywhere. We barely made it into the castle before we were overwhelmed. The soldiers in Norte are hungry, and we were not of the same urgency." Bowing his head without lowering his eyes, Allen steps back. "So if you punish me, know that you would punish any man you sent there."

One hand reaching up to stroke his beard, Dryden frowns, a sour expression on his handsome face. Knowing he will never survive Eries's wrath if he disposes of the knight, he changes his tactics in dealing with him, doing his best to ignore his anger at the continued absence of his beloved wife. "It seems that the two of us are bound to this family then."

Blue eyes snap up to attention and Allen blinks at Dryden. "What do you mean?"

Dryden offers a smile in return. "I've always been fascinated with behavior, Allen. Marlene's was peculiar… Millerna's in regards to you was as well… and Eries… managed to stay aloof of you, but in the end it is all the same, isn't it? I only pray that she is the sister you do not hurt."

"I never hurt Millerna."

"Perhaps," Dryden says. "Or perhaps she never told you. Either way… I am certain Marlene was hurt when you left her to return as you were ordered to. … and Eries…"

Straightening his shoulders, Allen lets his expression go blank.

"It took some time to query the right sources… and much thinking. But I've finally figured out your connection to her. Notwithstanding your strolls in the garden and giving her advice."

"And what would that be?" Allen asks. Again he feels old anger welling up in his chest, much older than his recent displeasure with the merchant turned king. Again he knows that his response is unwarranted. Dryden is a scholar. Dryden is a man who likes to know, and knows how to press buttons.

"Your betrothal. Didn't know about it yourself, did you?" Dryden leans on one elbow smugly, his tall chair making him seem larger than he has any right to, given the nature of the conversation they are having. "Or at least for a long time you didn't. You may know now… but it's a little too late to know it now."

Pride hurting, Allen sets his lips in a closed line. Dryden often tried this, before he married Millerna and became king. Goading Allen into telling things that the knight did not want to reveal…

"That's not going to work this time, sire," Allen says, bowing at the waist in stiff formality, his mind focused on Eries's eternally calm expression.

"It was worth a try," Dryden says.

"Many things are worth trying, that does not mean they will succeed."

With a roll of his eyes, Dryden lifts a hand and shakes it at Allen. "You've made your point, knight, enough disrespect for one conversation."

"Now if you will excuse me, sire, I promised Exeter I would go play with him, as usual," Allen starts to turn to go.

Bristling at the idea that his son should be raised more by the knight than himself, Dryden pushes himself heavily out of his chair. "There's no need. I will play with my son."


	24. Whispered Words

**Amare Dividere**

Title: Whispered Words 24/30

Series: Vision of Escaflowne

Rating: PG-13 for some violence.

* * *

The robes are lighter when made into her size, Hitomi finds, and the festival has the castle and the temple festooned beautifully in winter flowers and in dark greens that grow all year long. "You seem to be enjoying looking," Hitomi says teasingly as the two of them head up the brushed clean walkway towards the temple for the first day of the ceremony.

The snow on either side is nearly knee deep, and Van had covered her shoulders with a thick fur before they left the castle. "Are you warm enough, my queen?" he asks.

"I told you not to call me that."

Van smiles, threading his fingers through hers and drawing her hand up to his lips. "It is the truth," he says, kissing her knuckles. "You are my queen."

"It just sounds so strange, Van. I have a name… and no one but you and Merle ever uses it anymore." Hitomi keeps the fur closed tightly around her shoulders with her other gloved hand, thankful for its warmth in the cold of the winter in Fanelia.

"They aren't allowed to," Van says easily as they make their way up the steps at the rear of the castle that lead to the plateau of the hill behind it. "It's disrespectful."

Hitomi looks at him for a long moment. "I'm just like the people you're talking about, I'm not a noble. I'm not even sure I understand what makes someone noble… it's not something that you should be able to be born into, if you ask me."

Van is silent a long moment, and tucks her hand in his arm. "I agree with you," he glances at her. "And me?"

"What about you?" Hitomi asks, moving carefully on the stones. She is mindful of what falling could do to the baby, and how tired her swollen ankles can get. But she agreed to accompany Van, the long way, to the first of the festival ceremonies, and nothing will make her back out now.

"Have I earned my title?"

Blinking, she tightens her hand on his arm. "Of course you have, Van… when I think of all you went through in the last war…"

"All _we_ went through." He covers her hand with his other one and strokes the back of it through the gloves they are both wearing. "You were there too. And you worked just as hard. Arik was right when she said that you saved Gaea, Hitomi. Without you, Dornkirk's machine would have destroyed us all… and it's just in our nature to fight. So nothing would've stopped us… except you."

Blushing slightly, Hitomi glances at him, "You had a part in that too, if I recall properly."

"You do."

Van does not add that without her, Dornkirk's machine would not have worked at all… it was something he had only found out much later. And both he and Merle had decided that it was nothing that Hitomi ever needed to know about.

The top of the plateau stretches out before them as they reach the top of the steps, and Hitomi smiles as she is, again, greeted by a crowd of Fanelian well-wishers. "It wasn't anything special."

Van chuckles as he starts across the flat expanse with her, on the way to the festival in the temple, and only says, "Right."

* * *

Word reaches the palace in Freid that Norte's attack has been repulsed, and Chid relaxes to hear the news. Hathei is not present, only a messenger swathed in the icy mud stains of the passes where the fighting was happening. 

"That was too easy," Fariah says, pacing the dining room behind Chid's chair. The young Duke gently waves away the messenger that Hathei sent. The general decided to wait until he could certain no retaliation before returning to the ceremonies and festivities in the palace.

"You said this was not your strong suit," Chid offers as he turns slightly to watch her pace. "Why do you think it was too easy?" Chid asks, returning to his breakfast. The end of the festival is nearing, and the celebrations are tapering off so that the participants will be properly rested for the final evening of ceremony.

With a tight grimace, Fariah lets a hand fall on the hilt her sword, reassured by its solid weight. "Because from the description of the general Hathei fought against, he was Lishard."

"You know men from Norte?"

"I know men from every country on Gaea, my Duke," Fariah replies in an absent, cross voice as she paces. "Lishard… does not take failure well. If he retreated from that battle… there was another reason for his retreat."

"We will find out when Hathei returns. Our borders have held, is that not enough?" Chid asks, eating his food and disregarding the distress of his bodyguard. The other guards in the large dining room stand at relaxed attention as he eats, the morning sunlight streaming in through the large windows that line the two longer walls of the room.

"Somewhere there are people suffering because of whatever Norte is doing now. Somewhere there are people dead or hungry and cold." Fariah feels the tension across her shoulders, and tries her best not to snap at Chid for what weight he cannot feel on his shoulders that she does. She stops her pacing near one of the windows and leans against the ledge, her hands braced on cold stone, and lets her eyes wander, again, to the intricate carvings of the palace stone, knowing it will calm her down.

Chid sets down his utensils and turns to look at Fariah. "That somewhere, for the moment, is not here. I will contact my aunt in Asturia and see what can be done about Norte. Freid does not have a mighty army to fight such a strong foe."

"It does not take an army to do something like that. Norte is not even as warring a country as Zaibach was…" Fariah widens her eyes and stands up straight quickly.

"Zaibach," Chid says in a soft voice, glancing down at his plate.

"And Zaibach crumbled when Dornkirk was killed."

"It was a little more complicated than that," Chid says, turning his eyes towards his breakfast once more.

"I have to get word to my mother," Fariah says, beginning to pace once more.

"You said that your mother was a disgrace… that she…"

"My family believes in destiny, my Duke," she stops where she can see him and turns her gray eyes on him. "Not a destiny that is unchanging… but one that you can affect. My mother's eyes have always been more open to that than my own. I am, after all, a child."

"But what changes your mind so swiftly?" Chid asks, looking over at her. "People have told me that I am a child as well, but it does not change the fact that I am a ruler. Or that I have made hard decisions."

Fariah presses her lips together in a thin line. "I am not disputing that. You stand well in the duties that are tethered around your neck. You are a good Duke, and you have the support of your people, when you otherwise might not have. What I mean is that I cannot… or rather I will not leave you in order to do what must be done to end this war. That is _my_ duty. It is not the same for my mother. She has already been freed from her obligation… however disgracefully it sits with me, it is still the truth."

"So?"

"She _is_ free to end the war. Perhaps she has already figured out how it must be done… or perhaps not. Even if she has, I want her to know that I support her… in the end."

"You think she will die because of this?" Chid gently sets down his silver wear, his over-serious expression fixed on his lips.

"Folken, who killed Dornkirk, perished in the act. I can expect no less in this case," Fariah says, turning from the look of maturity being weighed against her.

"And yet you would send your mother to such a fate? Why?"

Feeling a little ill, Fariah turns back to look at Chid, framed by the carved stone of the open-aired dining room on the chill morning. She swallows the lump she feels growing in her throat. "So that you will not have to worry about the suffering people."

Chid pushes his chair back and rises, breakfast forgotten in their conversation. "You draft your letter. I will draft mine."

* * *

After what seems an eternity to her, Celena and the doctor both proclaim that Eries is again allowed to get out of bed on her own, but must wait before doing things too strenuous, or talking too much. Outside, the winter-spring has melted away into true spring, a late, damp one, and the birds and flowers hide from the chill rains. 

"For how long?" she asks in the least painful voice she can manage. It is very soft, whispering almost, but also disturbingly commanding. Since waking, she has been kept informed of the events of the war, and the news of the council, but she has kept herself aloof of them. Since Dryden has not sought her out, she has seen no reason to do likewise to him. And Allen has been good at reporting to her, if a little reluctant.

"A month. You still could tear the wound back open," the doctor cautions. "That would be-"

"What is strenuous about being a princess?" Eries asks, rising onto unsteady legs. Celena offers her a strong arm to lean against. "I want to bathe. Really bathe… and then I want to speak with the advisors."

"The king as well, princess?" Celena asks, fixing a robe across her shoulders and helping her towards the bathing room towards the back of her suite. A familiar pastime, but much different now that the princess is doing more than returning to bed.

Eries considers for a long moment. 'Surely… Dryden did not mean for me to be hurt…' She squares her shoulders and forces herself to walk more evenly towards the room. "Him as well."

Celena nods her head, and the doctor steps over to assist Eries towards her bath. "I will go right away," Celena says, heading for the door of the room.

Allen, waiting outside, almost knocks his sister over as she comes out, and his expression is pained and hopeful at the same time. "Well?"

"She is up and moving about, and will dress shortly," Celena says, motioning the ladies in waiting in to do their jobs. "But she's taking a bath at the moment. So you may as well just do something else. Let her feel a little more human."

He starts to frown and then glances at Celena. "Where are you going? Should you not attend her?"

"I am to inform the king and the advisors that she is calling a meeting," Celena says, hoping that her brother will do the reasonable thing and have real words with her about this. The trepidation in the princess's face when she thought of calling the king to the meeting as well…

"So soon?"

"If you were her," Celena asks softly, "and had been in bed for a month, would you think it was soon to be doing this?"

"She should take some time to get her strength back. They are merciless…"

"Then _you_ should tell her that. Because it is not _my_ place to do so."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She is _your_ fiancé, brother," Celena watches Allen's face to gauge his reaction. They have not before spoken of it between them. It is something she has not felt he will take well. Knowing that she knows.

"It is not exactly how you think it is," Allen says with a blank expression on his face. "The princess and I…"

"Regardless," Celena says, "she will respond better to you saying what you think than she will to me saying the same thing." She shifts and inches around her brother. "Now if you will excuse me…"

"Let me talk to her before you do that," Allen says, catching her arm before awkwardly stepping towards the door.

"Brother!" Celena chides. "She isn't decent."

"Tell her I would like to speak with her before you call that meeting," Allen replies with a roll of his eyes. "I am not so dishonorable in regards to her as all that."

* * *

Gayo and Sierra, the Duke and Duchess, are locked in the lowest dungeon in the remains of the old capital city that was abandoned after Dornkirk's death, and left with a small set of guards while Ouran's men took the new capital city and placed another man on the Duke's throne. 

But Ouran pays little attention to such things as these, because his son has returned to him. "What news of Zaibach?" Ouran asks, a grin on his lips. He had thought that there was little chance of Sotet returning to him, but word had just come by messenger from him that he was on his way.

"The Duke and Duchess are imprisoned, and there is little panic among the people. They are apparently used to such quick change."

Privately, Aden thinks that Zaibach should be left alone. The people had never asked to be so war-like, simply not to be such victims. And they were used because of such an innocent wish. He sighs, inwardly.

Always inwardly.

Van and Hitomi are having afternoon tea with the Egzardian king and queen when the word comes. Hitomi sets down her cup, and Benanoir reaches over for Inah's hand. "It is certain that Zaibach has fallen?" Van asks Merle, who stands with squared shoulders, the bearer of the news she has just received from the Compound.

Merle nods. "Without a doubt. The land is still at peace, but there is someone else on the throne."

"Kira," Hitomi says softly.

Inah nods slowly. "The Basram princess… her older sister was the Duchess of Zaibach."

"Kira is princess of Cesario now," Benanoir corrects. "Marriage notice was sent, if you recall."

"Please, sit and have a drink, Merle," Hitomi says, one hand straying to her stomach. Her other arm lies on the arm rest, and Van reaches over to take it reassuringly, as though he can hear her thoughts. His fingers thread through hers and she looks up to see his eyes. They twinkle softly, a twinge of melancholy in the red brown, and he lifts his hand to kiss the back of hers, speaking in a bare whisper. "It will be alright, Hitomi."

Merle takes a seat in a chair brought over to the table, and bows her head to Inah and Benanoir.

"It is a shame about Sierra though, she was always a nice and thoughtful woman. When the girls were born she was among the first to send us congratulations."

"She may not be dead," Merle says, sipping her tea and staring at it, astounded at Inah's apparent disregard of the war. But then, she recalls, some monarchs were like that. "It would be a terrible waste, especially when Norte has discovered the power of prisoners."

"But in Zaibach?" Van asked. "The people rolled over to the new leader. What good are ransomable persons when the people do not care to see them ransomed?"


	25. Snowy Pass

Title: Snowy Pass 25/30

Series: Vision of Escaflowne

Rating: PG-13, just in general at this point.

* * *

The ride through the mountains is slow going, after her meeting, but there are no more road blocks. The path seems blissfully clear despite the soldiers that she expects are lurking about. Not much stands in the way of a dragon, Arik realizes, soothing her mount.

And if the queen dragon has granted you passage…

At her back she can hear the festive music of a small village, and knows that it is likely about time for the winter festival in Fanelia. Her father's people had a similar one that she remembers from when she was very young.

It is late in the evening, and she is considering finding her own shelter somewhere nearby when she is surprised to come across another traveler, covered tightly in a cloak and huddled on the back of a horse. He does not appear to be heading for Fanelia, or coming from Asturia…

"Hello," Arik calls through the blowing snowstorm.

The other rider perks up at the words, and turns their head back and forth in an attempt to find the speaker. When the rider does see the other, the mount approaches. "Hello," comes the reply of a masculine voice.

"I didn't expect to see anyone else on this path," Arik says, pulling her hood back from her face some.

When the other rider does, she is amazed at who she sees. "I wasn't entirely sure where I would end up, I have been riding-"

"Sotet?" Arik asks, feeling tension moving up her back.

He nods. "How do you-?"

"I am Arik," she says, "in exile from the Consortium."

"I've never really cared what they said about who was exiled and who wasn't. Seeing how I'm not their biggest accomplishment myself."

She relaxes some. "I can understand that. Let's get out of the snow some, and we can talk for a bit."

He nods. "Lead the way."

The white of the snow blurs out the shapes that are watching the two of them from the rocks above, and Arik ignores the feeling of being watched, hoping only that her immunity extends to Sotet as well. After a short ride, she finds a cave that appears to be far enough recessed into the mountain that there is no snow on the inside of it, and she guides her horse towards it.

Sotet follows, a tall, dark mark in the falling snow behind her, and shortly enough, the two of them are inside the cave. Dismounting, Arik unstraps her belongings from the horse and sets them on the ground.

"I don't know what we're going to do for firewood," she says to Sotet conversationally. "The snow has been falling in the mountains for quite some time."

He dismounts as well, heading towards the back of the cave by the feel of his hands, and kicks something that sounds wooden enough. Bending, he picks it up, pleased to find that it is an old tree of some sort. "I think I found something back here," he says, dragging it forward towards where the horses are waiting.

"Good, start breaking it up and I'll grab the flints from my pack."

Watching her silhouette in the darkness, Sotet can't help but smile. He hadn't been sure why Selassie had said to him that he should find her, when she did, but the quick handling of the situation in the snow gives him an inkling of it. "Selassie was right to tell me to keep an eye out for you if I needed any help."

"What?" Arik pauses, her silhouette stilling in profile to him.

Sotet starts breaking the dried tree into pieces, carefully, and continues, puzzled at the slight roundness to her stomach. "She said you would be a useful ally if I needed one."

"Why would she say something like that?" Arik asks, continuing to take the saddle off her horse. "I'm an exile from the Consortium. What good do you expect will come from me now?"

"She said that you held the ways of the Consortium in better trust than some members that shun you for it." They weren't exactly Selassie's words, but he had sensed they were along her intent. "Besides, like I said before… I don't really care what they think. Selassie said that you would be a good person to talk to, if I could run across you. I trust her mind more than I trust the Consortium's exile."

"Found them," Arik says, pulling two dark stones out from her pack of things.

With a sigh, he brings some of the broken wood over to the center of the cave and digs a small pit with it. Putting the pieces of wood in it, he searches around for some tinder.

Arik shakes her head once and removes the sticks from the pit, reaching into her pack to take out the kindling she brought with her, and sparks a small fire onto it. "When you're making a fire, you have to feed it slowly," she says, coaxing one of the large pieces of wood into it.

Turning, Sotet sees her face illuminated by the small fire, and feels how cold he was during the ride. "I think I'd be inspired to trust you even if she hadn't mentioned anything," he says, quite truthfully.

Looking up at him, Arik is confused. "Why do you say that?"

"Intuition, I guess," Sotet says. "Selassie is a beautiful and smart girl, but-"

"She's a young woman," Arik corrects. "The two of you grew up in more the same way than the others."

"But her reassurances aren't enough to make me want to trust someone if I'm given the wrong impression of them." He rubs his arms a moment before reaching over to gather up the blanket from his belongings. "I don't care what the Consortium thinks about a lot of things. Least of all you."

"That's surprising, considering what mother said about me to everyone."

"Mother?" Sotet asks, completely surprised to hear that word come from Arik's lips.

"Mot," Arik corrects herself. "She told everyone that I was a betrayal of all we hold dear. That I should not be trusted. My own daughter said as much and may as well have spit in my face."

"She never treated you like a daughter, that I saw."

"It is the way of the Kathis with their obligation-child," Arik says. "Though I did not see fit to treat Fariah as nothing to me. And neither did my cousins and kinspeople."

"Then all the others…"

"Nileyah, Aden, Mahn, Chiye, all those of my age group decided that it would be better to feel like a family than a single person. So when we were forced to chose someone to make a child with, we were certain to chose someone we cared for. Someone who could care for a child regardless of how it was gotten. And so our children were loved by both their parents, and raised by everyone who had agreed to do the same thing."

"It is forbidden."

"Mot forbids many things. She forbade Selassie from venturing from the Compound. She said Selassie could not blend in with the people of Gaea and would be hindered. She kept you at her side instead of allowing you to grow as the other children were."

"It was for our own protection," Sotet says, knowing his words sound hollow in the cave.

"What protection did she truly afford you? You were born to be either a prince or a guardian. A very dual expectation, but neither of those did she truly prepare you for, did she?" Arik reaches into her bag and retrieves some of the food that she was sent with, beginning to warm it over the fire with a careful stick.

"You're right, I guess," Sotet admits sullenly. "And now they've sent me to Norte… to defeat my father."

Arik's arm tenses, and she almost drops the stick and surrenders the food to the fire. "Really?"

"It's why Selassie recommended you as an ally," Sotet says, looking at the flames. "She cares about me… and wants to be sure that I will return." He finds his angry feelings melt away a little at the thought of Selassie's blushing cheeks, and her quiet admission of her own intentions.

"What plan did she have in mind?"

Sotet lifts his eyes to his sister. "I am not entirely certain she had one, just that I should seek you out."

"Perhaps she did not have one at that moment," Arik says, a smile playing across her lips to see the fond look on her younger brother's face, "but she is in charge of strategy for the Consortium. I am certain there will come a time when what seed she has planted with us will come to fruition."

"She couldn't have meant you to come with me to Norte right away," Sotet says with a frown. "Ouran would know something was amiss if that happened."

"I do not intend to go with you to Norte," Arik says. "Not at this moment."

"Where do you go?"

"To Asturia," Arik says, stretching the food across to him. "To be of some help there." Sotet takes the food and watches her. "When the time comes, get word to me, brother, and I will make my way to you."

Perhaps it is the cold, Sotet thinks, the staggering displays of potential of the hearts of the women of the Consortium… but he feels warmer than the fire can possibly be making him at hearing a woman such as the one seated with him call him family. He nods, biting into the food that she has warmed for him, and thinks fondly on Selassie.

Very warm indeed.

* * *

Finally the Longest Night has come upon Fanelia. The night at the center of the mountain kingdom's year when there is more darkness than daylight, and the beginning of the end of the winter. The banquet hall is decked in the colors of the winter forests, and filled with nobles from outlying provinces and peasants from the capital. The doorways are ringed with guards, as are the battlements overhead.

Merle stands at the far side of the hall, watching those around her for any unfamiliar faces, and at the head table, seated next to Queen Inah of Egzardia, Hitomi watches Merle's defensive stance and the sword at her hip. Van has still not explained, to her satisfaction, what a Kathis is and does. She feels nervous about what will happen, and knows that she does not look her best.

Beside her, Inah offers a supportive smile, and encourages her to eat.

"I have an announcement," Van says, standing at the head banquet table in the warm room. The meal is well advanced and the drinks have been flowing. Hitomi, seated pale and quiet at his side, has refrained from the drinking.

Most of those present have not.

She looks up at her husband with a smile as the assembled lords and commoners make an effort to quiet down their carousing. 'This is it,' she thinks to herself. 'If I want to stop him, now is when I must.'

The hall finally stills itself to the noise of dogs eating greedily from full bowls and the crackle of the fire. Van glances down at Hitomi, and reaches a hand over. She takes it and squeezes his hand reassuringly.

"The Queen is with child," Van announces.

Before he can continue, there is a roar of approval. Cups are thrown high to the ceiling, the froth of the beverages spraying the owners and the seated alike, and a cheer spreads through the hall. Seated beside Hitomi, Inah's face spreads into an amused grin. Across the hall, Merle's alert eyes watch for those who may not be celebrating the announcement as cheerfully as the others.

Hitomi feels her cheeks flush as she watches the open, unrestrained joy of the people at the announcement, her eyes watering. Another unexpected response.

Van gently draws her to her feet and brushes the tears from her eyes.

The recovered cups are thumped on the table in a sign of approval. Hitomi finds herself blushing as she glances at some of the lords and sees the intent of their impromptu drum roll. But when Van tilts her face to his she does not protest, and lets her eyes slip shut as their lips meet.

There is a gentle noise from the women, and a cry of joy from the men. The noise of thudding cups is replaced by applauding hands and the music, which had died down for the announcement, is struck up again in a frenzy.

The rest of Van's carefully prepared speech, which Hitomi had been privy to, goes unsaid. Hours of pacing by candlelight when they both should have been sleeping for the festival duties went unslept, and all for nothing.

He pulls his face from the kiss and offers her the same charming grin that disarmed her in years past, and offers her a hand. "Can my lady Hitomi keep up still?" he asks with a half bow and a wink.

Unflinchingly, she places her hand in his, and he leads her down to the dance floor that is cleared of animals and milling people.

* * *

"Dancing," Arik says quietly to her mount as the two of them descend the mountains into Asturia. "There will be a great amount of dancing, likely in the castle. Van will announce that Hitomi is with child, and the celebration will continue for another week. If not longer."

The snow in the mountains is up half the beast's foreleg, and Arik is glad not to be walking. "And she will get a proper midwife now." Staring down at the shining jewel of Asturia, Arik sets her shoulders. "But their happiness is behind me, and secure where it ought to be. There are other things ahead."

The beast pricks its ears at the change of her voice on the wind and moves down the slope more swiftly in order to get out of the icy wind of the peaks.

"Palas looks a lot like the capital in Ispano, from this height. Shining and white. From above, you can see it from miles in any direction." Arik glances up. "If Norte retains control of Ispano… they will have airships. And guymelefs. I can only wonder why they have not used them before now. It was the advantage that brought the world to its knees in the last war."

The beast snorts the ice from its nostrils.

Arik reaches forward and pats its neck. "I will try to find a warm place for this evening. Tomorrow by midday, if we move quickly, we will be out of the snow and into the chill of the upper hills. But Asturia is thawing even now. And you will be warm soon."

* * *

Seated with her robe closed and the collar tucked high on the angry looking scar across from her neck, Eries nods to Celena that she may open the door and let Allen in.

"Leave us," Eries says once she meets Allen's eyes, her voice a fragile command. Curtsying, Celena nods and steps out of the room. "You have something you wish to say to me about my actions?"

"You should regain your strength before you meet with them," Allen says, standing rigid on the far side of the drawing room in her suite. There are chairs and couches around the edges and a large table in the center with flowers on it.

"I am strong enough," Eries says, rising half to her shaky feet. The presence of him in the room… alone with her in the room, is disarming. His intent look at her… the feeling of his eyes… what strength she normally has against his charms is eroded by her body's clinging lethargy.

"You know that if they see you weak like this they will eat you alive," Allen says, restraining his urge to cross and support her, eyes following the telltale signs of weakness in her body like a hawk watching prety.

She takes a step forward, forcing it to be as smooth as she can make it. "I am not weak."

"No, you are not," Allen says, stepping closer in an effort to be on hand when she will inevitably topple over. "But," he begins, lifting a hand as she sways, "you are also not fully recovered."

Eries starts to protest, but Allen continues, and the vertigo of staying upright captures her. She sways on her feet, her knees shaking and weak.

"You forced me to stay in bed when I was not fit to be active," he says, catching her with a hand around her waist as she swoons. He draws her up against him gently.

She tugs at him, "Let go of me, Allen… it is not right…"

He leans back to meet her eyes. "When you were speechless…"

"We were betrothed once by people who were not us," she says, silently glad he has not let go of her. She is afraid her weak knees would give out if he did, and prove him right. "It is unfair to hold you to that. But you seem most persistent in it."

"You deserve better than me."

She swallows, painfully, and her eyelids flutter.

"Rest more," Allen says, stooping to lift her off her feet and heading back towards her bedroom. "We will talk on it later."

Gratefully, Eries reclines in his arms wordlessly, gazing up at his face, which she must admit to herself she has always found handsome, and he lays her on her bed. "And if there is no later to wait on, Allen?" she asks softly. "If there is only war and kidnappings and fear?"

"Nothing that violent is ever constant, princess," Allen says, drawing the blanket over her. "Rest." He leans down and kisses her forehead. "You will need it."

* * *

"Again," Nileyah says, her hair tied back and her eyes deadly serious as she stares at Jasper across her sword.

"I am tired."

"Better that you are used to finding strength now then," she replies, lifting his sword onto the toe of her shoe and flipping it up into the air. When it is obvious he has no intention of catching it, she does so herself and turns it towards him. "_Again_."

"Enough, Nil," Jasper says, taking the sword from her. There is the sound of gurgling from the corner of the room, and Jasper turns his head towards his son.

Nil lunges forward, her sword hovering inches from his throat. "And when the enemy is at your gates and your son is in danger and you turn from them and they do not hold where I do… then I will have another prince to raise."

With a growl, Jasper lifts his sword and shoves her blade out of the way. She falls back into an easy defensive stance and arches a brow at him.

Again the heir gurgles, but neither turn towards the sound.

* * *

"When will we say how far along I am?" Hitomi asks as Van leads her towards their rooms that evening.

"We may not have to," Van replies, fingers smoothing the robes and stroking her side comfortingly. "The festivities will continue, now…"

Hitomi cannot hold in a yawn at hearing that, a mortified one. "More festival?"

"A proper celebration is required to celebrate the announcement of your pregnancy," Van says with a smile, tightening his arm around her waist and pulling her against his side. "I would not have them dishonor the child or my wife."

"You get some sort of sick satisfaction out of seeing me half-awake, don't you?" Hitomi accuses, leaning her head against him. Even her hair feels tired. Her body feels weightless with the release of the country knowing, but a twinge of apprehension streaks across her shoulders.

"I am sure I don't know what you mean, Hitomi," Van says, the door to their chambers opened before them by the guards. He lifts a hand to her back and strokes her shoulders in the perfect place as the doors close behind them. "Now, let me get you out of those robes."

"They aren't as heavy as I thought they would be," Hitomi replies with a contented sigh. Van always knows how to touch her properly… how to be perfectly reassuring when she needs it. He gently begins undoing the ties to the thick robes she is wearing. She stands drowsy as he does so, and when he has peeled her out of her clothing, she steps over and pulls on the night gown the seamstress had made her, and heads over to the bed.

"Are you cold?" he asks, shrugging out of his own robes and stepping into his night clothes.

"This nightgown was not made for this weather… and your floor is rock. And rock is cold!"

"Our floor," he corrects.

Hitomi, looking up at him from where she is curling up under the covers, glares at him. Van regards her with an even gaze, and Hitomi chuckles. "Sure, you're right, _our_ floor."

* * *

Skan does not entirely trust the Ispanians. They are traders, mostly, and mechanics. They needed to fit into small places, they needed to be unimposing. And so, over the centuries, those who had lived in the Gap became the embodiment of what they needed. Strong magic, Skan knew, tended to affect the users as much as they affected the objects in question.

But the Ispanians are an entirely separate matter. Powerful minute magicians. Somehow, the few families in charge of interacting with Gaea proper had not undergone the same changes. Their magic was slightly different from the people who live in the Gap, but no less as intense. And Skan is not used to such power in such a small package. Tristan, on the other hand, is quite at ease with them. They are the people he had grown up with.

These are _his_ people. And those who have not been taken as slaves have gone underground. It is why Norte had no airships and guymelefs such as Escaflowne to attack the world with, or too few to be of great use to Ouran. The smartest of the engineers and the maintenance crews had either gone underground or committed suicide. They would rather not be than be under the influence of such a tyrant as Ouran.

They simply refused.

And now they have their High Priest back, and nothing is stronger than a High Priest in his homeland, as far as they know. However, they are not aware that the strength of the priest comes from his people. Those who had died were old and had much power in them. So while Tristan is stronger than the forces of the invaders, who seemed far too numerable for such a small country, he is not as strong as he had been shortly after his mother's death.

"What we have to do," Tristan says as the group of leaders of the hidden ones sit around the little fire in the cave he and Skan occupy, "is to find out where the strength of the invaders comes from. There must be someone who is quite powerful backing the Norte king if he manages to hold us all so oppressed."

There are nods, and the hidden ones head out of the cave with respectful bows at the High Priest.

Skan gives Tristan an incredulous look. He is picking up more and more of the halting language that Tristan seems intent on using, though he prefers his own more liquid tongue to it any day. He understands what Tristan's meeting has been about. He just doesn't agree with it. He is not nearly as sure as Tristan that it is right to put so many people in danger.

But he does not know how to properly convey what he is thinking. And so he simply maintains his patient expression and waits for the proper opportunity.

* * *

Arriving in Palas, Arik heads for the palace without much more of a sidetrack than to put her horse in a stable for the evening. If all goes well… she shrugs. In her satchel is a letter that Hitomi and Van had written to introduce her properly to Eries and Dryden. It was addressed, however, with a second letter specifically to Allen.

Hitomi had felt very bad when she heard that Eries was hurt, more so than when she heard the Millerna had been kidnapped. Millerna had always been strong during adventures, and what little Hitomi had seen of her during the anniversary celebration led her to believe that it had only hardened in her in her age.

The only other stop that Arik makes is to a bath house, where she changes from her traveling clothes and makes herself look much more presentable. After speaking with Fariah, she knew of the fight between her daughter and the Senior Knight. She did not want to remind him too much of the girl he had crossed swords with.

As she leaves the bathhouse, she straps her own sword to her back and braids her hair, heading up the streets towards the palace. She is received at the door by one of the guards and let into a waiting room that includes peasants and servants waiting on various errands.

She stands prouder than they, and more finely dressed, thanks to Fanelia. She waits patiently, standing near one of the arches as the flow of people move around her, until finally she is sought out among the crowd by a pale blond haired woman.

The young woman sweeps a curtsy, and Arik returns it with a formal bow. "I am Celena Schezar," the young woman says. "Chief Lady in Waiting to her highness, Princess Eries. She has been informed that you come with word from Fanelia."

Arik nods respectfully. "One piece of correspondence for the princess and the king, and another for Sir Schezar, my lady," she says.

Celena's brow furrows. "What word do you bring for him?"

"Whatever word their majesties from Fanelia saw fit to send," Arik replies in the same respectful voice. She removes the letters from her vest pocket. "Shall I wait here for the reply?"

"No," Celena says, "it is the habit of the princess to meet with those bearing correspondence to the family directly. She is in a meeting at the moment, but I am certain she will want to see you as soon as she is out. I will take you to her sitting room." She picks up her skirts. "Please, miss, follow me."


	26. 26: Strategic Return

Title: Strategic Return 25/30

Series: Vision of Escaflowne

Rating: PG-13, just in general at this point.

* * *

The meeting Celena knows Eries to be attending had almost turned into a disaster for the princess, one barely averted. Finally, even Allen had to admit that Eries recovered. It had taken the majority of the spring that seemed to be set in winter, and outside the snows are melting under the late rains. It is strange because in Palas, the winters were mild, because of the proximity to the sea, and usually not so late.

As Eries walks towards the Council Chamber, Allen is at her shoulder. The guards, given explicit instructions by the Senior Knight, tighten their stances formally before opening the doors for her.

The assembly stands, Dryden the first to get fidgety to his feet, and wait as Allen draws her chair out from under the table. It is the crowned king's first view of his sister-in-law since the terrible accident. In the darkly decorated council chambers, he thinks that she looks pale. The firelight softens the slenderness of her face, and darkens her hair, but he knows that she is paler than she has always been. Dryden turns his eyes down to his papers in order not to continue appraising the woman that has just entered the room.

Rumors have been flying. Eyes glance at the high collared gown that the advisors have all seen before… and those same eyes turn to glance at the King, who is looking at the papers before him on the large table.

The whole castle feels alien to her as takes her seat, wishing for nothing more than to flee the meeting room where the advisors are staring so cruelly. Dryden is no better. The gown she wears has a high, tight collar. She is sure none of them see what scarring lay beneath the expensive fabric…

But the looks on their faces… the inquisitive stares of the men seated around the table…

Allen had been right, but even Allen has been acting strangely in the past few days. Despite all of the pressure, her sign of weakness is nearly invisible, even to him. Her lip quivers, and her eyes lowers from theirs as the men take their seats. She reaches forward with pale, smooth hands and utters a dignified and cool, "Gentlemen," as she looks at the first paper.

In the back of her mind she knows that she could rise… that once the doors close behind her she could start running. She would not care if the guards saw her. Or the servants.

But she also knows that she cannot escape this situation, however alien it feels to her. Even though her skin feels like poison. It weighs her down into the chair she is sitting in as she commences the meeting. And she feels that she can't breathe.

"Begin the report," Eries says.

Allen takes his seat a few spaces away from her around the round table and watches her closely as the advisors begin to report. "Freid's attack was repulsed. Norte's army appears to have been defeated."

"There was rumor of some brief unsettlement in Zaibach."

"What do we care of Zaibach?"

"Plenty," Eries says. "The land mass of Zaibach more than doubles that of most other countries on Gaea. If Norte has managed to gain control of it, and without our knowledge…" she shakes her head. "It is a dangerous thing to underestimate so cunning an enemy as Norte. As Ouran."

"Ouran?" one of the advisors asks.

Eries levels cold blue eyes at Dryden. The King moistens his lips before speaking. "According to Sir Schezar's report, the country is quite obviously being driven by unnatural circumstances. What is most likely to be the case is that Ouran, who is not the native monarch to the country, has chosen this path for them."

"Daeluzito keb Ouran was married in to the monarchy of Norte. Saean Lanrae was the daughter of the former king. It was quite an upset for the family," Eries says, "since Daeluzito is of no noble birth that anyone can trace. And he was the lover of another monarch before he married Saean."

The advisors glance around at one another uncomfortably.

"Don't feel too bad," Dryden says, a smile growing on his lips, "men aren't expected to know court gossip. Especially from as many years ago as the princess is talking about."

"What is most puzzling," Allen says, daring to speak up for the first time during the meeting, "is that he suddenly became so thirsty for power and influence. He seemed content, before, to be the voice in the ear of the monarchies."

Eries ponders that for a long, silent moment.

"It isn't as easy as everyone seems to make it out to be, to be shown that sort of power and remain the same as you were before it," Dryden says. "I know that first hand. Perhaps he was exposed to something that gave him this ambition."

There are quiet murmurs, and the advisors glance at the king, wondering… The reports continue, and the bickering begins. It is the bickering that sets Eries off her normal cool demeanour, and causes her to speak.

"Is that all?" Eries asks, still feeling a little shaken, and as though she should like to tear off her collar to get more air into her lungs.

"There are also whispers that Basram is next," one of the quieter members of the advisors speaks up, daring, as the others did not, to meet the princess's eyes.

"That makes little sense," Eries says. "Why would he attack the country where he was first at the right hand of a royal?" She leans her head on one hand and closes her eyes in thought. "Map," Eries says with a clap of her hands.

The map is lain out on the table, and Eries marks off Norte's territory with her finger. "They have supplies," one of the more militaristic nobles says. "Zaibach was largely agrarian, and was taken without much struggle. Unlike Egzardia, who burnt the crops behind them."

"That puts Norte in charge of both Zaibach and Egzardia," Allen says. "Perhaps he wants the strategic advantage."

"The attacks have been coming in pairs. If they are planning another dual attack…" Eries begins. "What countries have not been targeted?"

There is a long moment of silence as the minds around the table absorb that. "Fanelia. Cesario. Daedelus. Basram."

"Fanelia was already attempted at being conquered. During the celebration around the king's marriage," Allen says, shaking his head. "But it appears, from the attempts, that they are trying to box us in. Why is that?"

"We are a threat," Dryden offers, sitting up and joining the discussion, now that he sees Eries is not out to have his head for her injury.

"But why are we a threat? We are merchants, not soldiers. And Norte produces the metal that makes soldiers so fearsome," Eries says, lifting fingers to tap her lips. "Unless commerce is what he is after controlling."

"Or perhaps it is just a grudge," Allen says.

"You could call the attack on the anniversary one, could you not?" an advisor asks.

"But it wasn't the same kind of attack," Allen says, eyes staring hard at the map, "that was a move to cripple, not to control."

"That could be considered an attack on us, could it not?" one of the advisors asks in a confused voice. "If the Coronation attack on Fanelia is one."

Allen shakes his head, but it is Dryden who responds verbally to the challenge. "It involved no army to speak of. Gecko we have seen before in our canals. Unless everyone has forgotten the last war?" Dryden asks.

"But not Dopplers," Eries says, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on them as she contemplates the map on the table for a long while in silence. The advisors hold their breath at the sight of her so fixated on the map, taking the world in stride, as she appears to. "There's nothing else to resolve today, is there?"

"There is one last piece of business," Dryden says.

Everyone's eyes turn to look at the king, and for a moment he appears to have mischief writ in his features before he sobers. "Given the recent misfortune, I believe that the princess is not being taken proper care of, even with the guard that is stationed throughout the palace."

Eries narrows her eyes questioningly at her brother-in-law.

"Therefore I move that the Knights Caeli should be put in charge of her safety." Allen's jaw tightens and he looks at Dryden with cold blue eyes. "They are always of a better quality than those we hire to be guards."

Several murmurs of acceptance are heard around the table.

"There are never more than four Knights Caeli assigned to the palace," Allen says in a tightly controlled voice. This was one discussion Allen felt it best to exclude from his reports to Eries. He had not thought them so bold as to bring it up to her, especially after questioning Dryden so harshly in regards to it.

"I'm sure I'm not just speaking for myself," the Minister of Foreign Affairs says, "when I say that four of your knights, Sir Schezar, are better than guards lining the walls of the castle."

Eries holds in her sigh and lowers her eyes once more to the map before her, contemplating the situation at hand. Could Norte's army be big enough to attack more than two countries at once? Was Ouran's attack on the coronation his only one?

Jaw tightening, Allen looks around the table at the advisors and the King. The Foreign Affair's Minister. The Master Judicary. The Commerce Accountants in charge of domestic and foreign coin. The Royal Advisor. The highest General of the Armies. And the King.

The general speaks up, "You already receive reports from the Captain of the Royal Guard, do you not?" he asks.

"It is true," Allen says.

"Consider it a special assignment then," Dryden says, nodding to the general. "Unless there is another person more suited to protect the Princess?"

Around the table, the advisors shake their heads.

An idea strikes Eries, and she returns to the conversation to find Allen glaring at Dryden and the advisors looking very pleased with themselves. "If you are finished with this," Eries says, looking up at the men and straightening in her chair, "Then let us adjourn this meeting to contemplate what has come to light."

Allen holds in his disgusted snort at Dryden's power play, and turns his eyes back to the map, trying to see what it is that Eries saw in the maps.

The princess rises, and the men follow to their feet, Dryden last as he watches her intently. "Until tomorrow, gentlemen," Eries says, turning for the doorway.

Dryden's amused eyes flicker to Allen, but the knight still regards the maps before him with an intense scrutiny that has shut out the rest of the room. The king shakes his head and turns as well, heading for the library.

Pleased to have escaped without a chaperone or a guard following her, Eries heads out of the meeting chambers and climbs the long spiraling stairs to the roof at a dignified pace. She lifts deft fingers and undoes the buttons holding her stiff collar tightly around her neck. Corset and collar together are a bit much for any one body to bear, especially a body unused to them after so long resting in bed. Drinking in the cool air, and pleased that the rains have stopped enough that the stone is not wet and she is not being dampened, Eries sinks down to take a seat on the creneled upper wall of the castle, tipping her head back against the cool stone and relaxing.

She still feels constricted, but knows there is little help for that, and little avoiding that her body is so defined by it in that moment. Her body is so focused on breathing through the constricted, strangling feeling that she does not hear the footsteps.

The meeting was, perhaps, not as brutal as it could have been to her. But the feeling of the eyes staring at her… and then Allen's recent behavior… She feels a sting in her eyes and closes them as she feels the tears well up in them. The first of her tears slide down her cheeks when a gentle hand tucks her hair back from her face. She flinches back from the hand, instinctually turning her face towards the crenels of the roof to hide her scar.

Allen pulls his hand back from her face and slips off his glove, "Eries," he says softly, brushing his fingers under her veil and against the tears on her cheek and slowly tilting her chin towards him. "Princess… look at me."

She lowers her eyes as he tries to meet them. "No, Allen."

Allen ducks his head slightly to meet her eyes whether she likes it or not. "You have done nothing wrong, nothing to apologize for. A scar does not change the woman you are. You are still princess. You are still everything that commanded the men in that room."

"But…" Eries shakes her head slightly. They are talking about different things. She puts a hand to her neck. "I am not beautiful."

Confused, Allen contemplates the princess in front of him.

Eries feels her childhood anger burning in her chest, "It has always been that way. I take after my father. I am the homely sister beside two stars."

He puts a finger against her lips. "Never to my eyes," he says, lowering himself to a knee on the cold stone. "Your beauty is simply different than theirs."

Finally, Eries lifts shining eyes to Allen's. "When did you get so wise?" she asks softly, blushing modestly at the emotion in his blue eyes. "Where was I?"

"I learned from my betters," Allen replies, brushing the tears from the corner of her eyes. "Now, Eries," he says, getting to his feet slowly and drawing her to her own. She sways, slightly, and he puts a hand to her back to support her, his free hand lifting to redo the buttons on her collar. "There is a visitor who waits on you, my lady."

"Allen…"

"Hush," he replies, tucking her arm firmly in his. "May I escort you?"

She nods, once, and lets her fingers clutch on the fabric of his jacket. It is stiff, and yet also warm.

* * *

Jasper is confident in his progress as the end of the winter becomes obvious. The snows turn to rains, and the iced paths become mud. Harder to penetrate, but not impossible. Nil knows this, and watches the mountains in a preoccupied manner, not entirely trusting the scouts and lookouts she herself had trained for the same duty.

"You are always so preoccupied," Jasper says, carrying his son against one shoulder, wrapped in blankets, as he walks alongside her on the open aired halls of the upper floor of the castle.

"Try to understand, paranoia is what saves lives during war." She folds her hands across her back and watches with an eye to the passes. The word from the Compound had reached her as well, and she had sent it along with a trusted trader that was braving the mountains so that Asturia would be made aware as well. It is truly a shame, she thinks, that there was no Kathis there.

Jasper steps over, offering to let her hold his son, and Nil capitulates, lifting him in her arms and soothing him against her shoulder. "What has you so paranoid, anyway?" Jasper asks.

"Zaibach has fallen to Norte," she replies, turning with him towards the Queen's chambers. "I did not want to say it in front of the Queen. She does not need to worry over it."

Jasper tightens his jaw.

"Don't you agree?" Nil asks, glancing over the head of the heir at him. "We both know she won't likely last out the end of the spring. Why burden her now?"

Jasper lowers his head, nodding once, and Nil reaches over to wipe the tear from his cheek. The two of them head into the Queen's chambers, which are hung with white, a part of the ritual in Cesario for passing to the other world.

"Come in," Emman says, voice much stronger than her body in the end of her days. "Both of you."

Nil sets the heir on the floor, knowing there is nothing for the boy to get into in the room prepared for death. She follows Jasper to the bed, where the prince sits down and takes his mother's hand.

"I am short on breath, so listen to all of what I have to say before interrupting." Both of them nod, and Emman begins her small speech. "War is again knocking at our doors. It happened before, and Nil was cunning enough to protect you, Jasper. I know she will again, as with your son. What is important now is that neither of you lose one another in the days ahead. Nileyah… will never be a queen to you, Japser. But… with an heir already, you do not need one." Weakly she extends a hand to Nil, who steps forward to her, and kneels beside the bed. The dying woman squeezes their two hands in her own two frail ones. "And so I want the two of you to be sure to be… happy."

"Mother, no," Jasper says, his voice choked.

"Yes," Emman replies. "Take care of them," she says, turning her aged eyes on Nil.

* * *

Fariah paces the highest walks of the palace in the predawn light. The problem with Freid as a defendable place was that the capital, and the duke's residence was Godashim. And Godashim was lain out like a temple. She had seen the layout of the other major imperial cities and they were somewhat better, but not by much.

She can understand religious fervor, but the openness of the cities was borderline stupidity. A guard catches up with her and says, "Lady, the Duke awakens."

"Thank you," Fariah says, turning on her heel and heading towards the Duke's chambers. No one else had turned up in the weeks of her absence to attack, and there had been no other intruders to Freid. Word from the Compound said that Zaibach had fallen when her country had not.

The Kathis to the Duke of Zaibach had not sent off the report. It was Jujiin who reported on it. He had been traveling to see if there was anything the Compound could do, and witnessed the death of the Kathis himself. The poor woman was said to have had her head removed sloppily from her neck.

The thought of it turns Fariah's stomach a little.

It is news she has not relayed to Chid, the death of the Kathis. But she has told him of Norte's ploy and the fall of Zaibach. The meeting scheduled for this morning is to discuss the situation of the war.

Privately, as she steps into the outer chamber to wait for him to finish bathing, Fariah thinks that all the countries talk entirely too much and do too little in comparison. 'The world is ruined with talk. Wars are lost with too much of it. People may die of boredom in a meeting where you have to bow thrice in every direction before entering and being acknowledged to speak.'

'But then,' she reflects, thinking on her mother abandoning her charge to his own devices, 'the world is more complicated the older one becomes. Things become less simple when there is more than you and your charge. And kings and dukes must think of people instead of simply winning.'

For the first time in the ten months since giving birth, her hand strays to her stomach and she considers the world her son will grow up in. She shakes her head. "These are not thoughts for now," she resolves aloud. "But I should have sent word to mother that it was a son."

Chid, exiting his private chambers, followed by several servants, hears only the last. "A son?"

"Nothing," Fariah says quickly, turning to offer a formal bow to him. "Are you prepared for your meeting?"

"Of course," Chid says, a little irritably. "Why do you always avoid my questions?"

"I avoid only those that you do not need to know answers to," Fariah said, following as he headed from the outer chamber. "I answer what you need to know without compunction."

"One day you may know too much for even you," Chid says, sounding wiser than his years. "And then you will wish to share it, if only to be rid of it."

* * *

Celena waits for Eries and Allen at the door of the library. She is pleased to see that her brother has located the princess, and that she seems to be doing well. Dryden, when she had caught up with him after the meeting, had instructed her to discuss whatever it was that needed to be discussed with Eries.

As her brother leads the princess closer, the governess approaches, and the guards open the door to allow her into the library.

"Yes, Celena?" Eries asks as she and Allen enter the library, knowing what she is likely waiting to relay.

"A messenger from Fanelia bearing letters, highness," she says, keeping her eyes lowered as she curtsies. "For your highnesses and for the Senior Knight."

"Please bring the messenger in the library," Eries says, looking ahead to the governess entering the library before her. "I would like to visit with my nephew a little."

Celena glances at Allen, who nods slightly, and he leads her into the library, her hand tucked securely in his. The explanation of Allen's often presence was Eries's injury. No one dared question it while there was even the slightest shadow on the health of the princess.

There was a missing queen. The only living relatives were unsuitable to take the throne, if one did not consider Eries. The accident had reminded all those in charge of succession of the status of Eries. And so there were no further chances being taken with the princess's life. Celena knows Allen was formally put in charge of her safety at the meeting that had just adjourned.

Celena has to wonder if Dryden had grown a brain in the previous months, but does not comment on it aloud, instead she turns and heads to retrieve the messenger. What would give him reason to give Allen further access to the princess, if he knew about the engagement? Was it an appeasing gift to the woman he'd almost accidentally gotten beheaded?

* * *

After the announcement, Merle is glad to be able to bring Austa to the palace permanently, instead of the late night visits to assure the Queen, and the heir's health. Austa is pleased with Hitomi's progress, but displeased with the strain the festival is putting on her, and so she orders that the Queen take more time to rest. Hitomi does not mind at all, feeling worn out by the long days and late nights.

She wonders, lying on the bed while Austa checks the child growing in her stomach, if monarchs on Earth have the same problems, and if Austa could be considered a gynecologist of sorts. She certainly seems to be performing the same sorts of checkups that Hitomi had expected, if she were on Earth. Her mind strays to Yukari. She wonders if her engaged friend was married yet… if she has children… or if she is pregnant too…

And she bursts into tears.

Austa comforts her absently as she helps the Queen to sit up and dress once again in her robes. "It is normal for pregnant women to be emotional," the kind old woman says. "With the stress of the last year in your life, it is more than reasonable for you to be upset, your highness."

Hearing her title just makes Hitomi cry even harder. Austa excuses herself quietly, letting Merle and Van into the room.

When Van is allowed back into the room, he is confused to find tears, and steps over to comfort his wife, who is still crying and sitting in the window, looking out over the white in the courtyard. Behind Van, Merle stands uneasily at the door, not sure what she can do to help, or if she should even be in attendance at the moment.

"What's wrong with her?" Van asks Austa as the woman gathers her things. "I don't understand…"

"You may never. I cannot say," Austa says, smiling in the grandmotherly way that she has. "It is in her heart. And during a war, who can say what will sadden one? She will be all right, given time."

"There is a ceremony…" Van begins.

"Your father was the same way with Varie," Austa clucks. "And she threw him from the royal chambers for it. Merle, help me with these bags."

Glad to be given some sort of occupation, Merle moves forward quickly and lifts the midwife's bags, heading out of the room before her.

Van blinks. "Threw him from the…"

"For being insensitive," Austa says, patting the king on the arm. "All will be well, your highness, but I would suggest that you have another woman keep her company, since you cannot understand why she's crying."

* * *

Arik enters the library, following Celena. There are guards at every door and window, and the doors shut tightly behind them. Dryden is seated in his normal chair at the center of the library, and Eries stands beside it, with Allen just at her shoulder. Celena steps to the side with a curtsy.

Stepping forward, Arik sweeps a low bow, waiting to be acknowledged. She hears footsteps, the movement of a chair.

"Rise, messenger, and give us your name," Eries says, stepping around Dryden to take a seat where Allen has placed one for her.

"Arik Dulchap," she says, slowly straightening up. "Kathis to High Priest Tristan of Ispano."

"High Priest of Ispano?" Dryden asked. "You're a long way from home."

"Ispano, majesty, fell to Norte before any country on Gaea."

Dryden is left speechless at that, and a moment later it is Eries who speaks up, "What brings you to Asturia?"

"Letters," Arik says, reaching into her vest to draw them out, holding them forth. "One for your majesties, and one for Sir Schezar, from the King and Queen of Fanelia."

Allen steps forth and brings the letters over, taking his and holding the other between Dryden and Eries. It is Eries who takes the letter, and Dryden who speaks up, "I take it Fanelia will verify your words. But that is not an answer. What does a Kathis from Ispano hope to do here?"

"Prevent what happened from happening again," Arik says, bowing her head respectfully again. "Perhaps even assist in retrieving Queen Millerna."

Behind Eries, Allen stiffens. "What makes you think you will succeed where others have failed?" he asks in a clipped voice.

"It is the duty of a Kathis to protect their charge. Beyond their own life. My charge has died to me, and there is nothing left for me but to set right what I can. I owe my life to Fanelia. You are great friends of the monarchs who rescued me. I decided to begin here."

Eries lifts a hand to forestall more of Allen's words, eyes trained on reading the paper. "The letter speaks the truth of what she says." She glances over at Dryden. "It will undoubtedly make General Hourne feel more secure to have another bodyguard around. We all must admit that Sir Schezar is a Knight and not a bodyguard."

The man in question's lips twist in a thin lipped frown.

Dryden fingers his beard. "That's true enough."

"Quite," Eries says, glancing up at Allen without turning her head. The guards were not to be trusted as the members of noble families. Anyone could become a guard. "Provided that the Head Knight approves of your skills, it is acceptable to us that you become the family guardian until such time as a more suitable situation is available to you."

In response, Arik bows once more.

Allen frowns.


End file.
